Bar Mucha
by The Lazy Marshmallow
Summary: AU. After an unexpected end to Galatea's latest mission a meeting with her new bartender proved the perfect remedy.
1. Chapter 1

Bar Mucha

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><p>AN. Hello again.

This fic is for all the shippers who I hope will forgive the tackiness brought about by my severe writer's block.

Thanks to all who read.

Pairing: Miria x Galatea.

Disclaimer: I don't own Claymore or any of the characters.

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><p>A trail of dried red blood led towards the entrance of the hotel suite's bathroom. It ended in a small pool by the bathtub. Across the bottom of the empty bathtub his lifeless body still warm sprawled the occupant of the suite. Stabbed clean through the heart his blood had stained the front of his white shirt a deep vermillion. The murderer reached over the dead body and wiped the blood caked blade clean across the lapels of his suit. In her defence she hadn't meant to kill him. It had been a simple shadowing mission but things had gotten out of hand and the result was the addition of another name to her kill list. The numbers weren't very high as she hated that particular aspect of her work not because she had an aversion to killing but because it proved so damn messy. Her knife clean she replaced it within the leather sheath strapped to her thigh and surveyed the damage in the bathroom mirror. Not as bad as she feared. She had avoided any blood splatter on her clothing and more importantly in her hair. Her previous kill had proved to be a nuisance and that time a good two hours had passed before she could emerge from her bathroom with all the traces of blood removed from her pale blonde hair.<p>

Returning to the body, she searched within the folds of his jacket and carefully extracted an electronic pad. The screen flicked to life requesting a password. She sighed. Technology wasn't really her strong point but then that was where Dietrich came in handy. That girl possessed a strong persistent streak which kept her stubbornly hacking into places that were deemed impossible. Dietrich said it was the fault of all networks as they sent her an indirect challenge by claiming they couldn't be breached. A ring-tone cut off her thoughts concerning her comrade and she answered her phone with a brief greeting while absentmindedly keying in her date of birth as the password on the electronic pad.

"You're late." Her boss's monotone filtered through the speaker. "Is the package secure?"

"Almost, although I wouldn't say the same thing about this line," she replied, her eyebrows rising slightly in surprise as the password proved correct.

He was always the sentimental type she reflected flicking through the files on the pad.

"Proceed to drop point."

"As you command." She paused upon a certain file labelled Operation Claymore opening it out of curiosity only to find it encrypted.

"Also boss I need you to take care of my dry cleaning."

Slipping the pad into one of the hidden pockets of her dress she made her way to the bathroom. As she opened the window the cold night air entered the room. The window was just the right size for her to fit through and from its ledge she could easily swing herself up onto the roof of the hotel and make her escape from there.

"How many items?" Her boss's tone betrayed the faintest hint of disappointment.

"One. In the bathroom and be careful with this one it was a favourite," she added before hanging up and making her escape through the window.

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><p>Leaving the hotel far behind she made her way towards the bustle of the city. She checked the watch upon her wrist, a present from the man she'd murdered just four hours previously. A contact was to meet her at the local bar Mucha where the exchange would take place. She could then return to her civilian life once more until her boss handed her another assignment. She briefly considered asking for vacation time knowing full well that it would never be granted. You get breaks in between missions her boss would say. Well if she took that tack then she would have to blackmail her with the knowledge that she was quite aware of her boss' attraction to one of their fellow agents. But then the whole division knew their boss's less than subtle feelings concerning their number one agent. It would certainly be worth it to see her superior's pointy ears turn that brilliant shade of red in stark contrast with her pale pasty skin. Getting thrown out the office would be worth it and it wouldn't be the first time either.<p>

The neon sign announcing bar Mucha open for business loomed above her and she entered glad to be out of the chill of the night. A background cool jazz vibe greeted her entrance making her feel right at home. Mucha was one of the many places her division owned and operated. A number of the staff were agents in disguise as were many patrons. She herself had started out as an informant in this very bar before being booted upstairs and promoted to field work. Heading to the bar she chose a seat near the vase of white lilies as per her instructions and settled comfortably down for the long hour wait for her contact.

"May I take your drink?" a nervous voice asked causing her to look up amused at the very young bartender in front of her.

"Umm…I mean drink order?" the young woman clarified, a slight blush forming upon her cheeks.

"Do you know the story of the seven ghosts?" Her voice teased as she noticed the nervous way the woman smoothed her uniform.

"Seven ghosts?" The bartender looked confused running a hand through her spiky hair.

"It's not at all important." She ignored her puzzled look now that she had ascertained that the new bartender was not a member of her division. "Are you the new bartender? What happened to Isley?"

"Isley broke up with his girlfriend and requested time off," the girl shifted uncertainly. "Or so I heard."

"I told him it wouldn't work out," she sighed before scrutinising the young woman closely.

The girl didn't look like a bartender at all which was unfortunate as she had been looking forward to her usual Death in the Afternoon cocktail that Isley made so irresistibly. Still it wouldn't hurt to give the girl a chance and she was quite partial towards cute girls like this one now that she had gotten a good look at her. Very cute she amended. She glanced at the girl's name tag before speaking again.

"Well, Zelda." She paused. Surely that couldn't be her name she thought.

The spiky red haired girl noticing her frown couldn't control her smile which suddenly formed.

"I was in a hurry to get to work and took my roommate's name tag instead. My name is Miria," she added.

"Galatea." She wasn't sure why she offered her real name to a complete stranger but the girl had quickly endeared herself to her. She was so different from the other people who filtered quickly through her life. Galatea was certain that the girl was incapable of deception and was more naïve than knowing.

"Miria, now that we are acquainted you may fix me two Death in the Afternoons."

Miria nodded and gathering the ingredients for the drinks fumbled slightly when it came to opening the bottle of absinthe. She looked apologetically up at Galatea who could only smile in response to the girl's clumsiness.

"What grade are you in?" Galatea asked, intrigued with her new bartender. Her question startled Miria who nearly upturned the champagne flute she was using for the absinthe.

"I'm twenty four. My school days are far behind me," Miria answered her as she added the chilled champagne to the flute before placing the drink in front of Galatea.

"Forgive me. You look at least seventeen." Galatea sipped her drink ignoring Miria's glowering look. "Not bad. This is actually quite good."

"Keep that attitude up and I won't make you the next one," the bartender threatened.

Galatea smiled undaunted.

"The second one's not for me. Think of it as a welcome to your new job."

"I don't drink on the job," Miria replied seriously all traces of her previous humour gone.

"Then save it for when you finish," Galatea smirked as Miria turned away grumbling.

"When do you finish by the way?"

Miria, making the second cocktail didn't look at her as she replied.

"Seven hours from now."

That would make it two in the morning Galatea calculated. It had just turned seven and her contact was to meet her within the hour which would leave six hours of waiting. She inwardly sighed. She hated long waits but then one must make sacrifices.

"Then I'll just have to watch your drink until then," she smiled disarmingly as Miria placed the second cocktail in front of her.

"Enjoy your drinks." Miria placed her emphasis on the plural and as a smile tugged at her lips she turned away to serve another customer who had signalled her.

Galatea watched her go before returning to her drink. Already the girl was losing her previous clumsiness, seeming more in control. Not that it stopped the appeal. As if she sensed Galatea's gaze the bartender turned to look at her and the mischievous blonde couldn't help giving her a discreet wink. Her smirk widened as her action caused her prey to fumble with the cocktail shaker once again. Satisfied, Galatea turned away to take in her surroundings once again. The bar was slowly coming to life as more patrons entered. Mucha was never overcrowded as it was more an exclusive bar with the bouncers doing a good job of keeping out the rowdy types. The pool tables tucked into the west corner were as popular as ever and she observed the current game with little interest. The man in white was going to win and the short stubby man who could barely stand was likely to throw a tantrum in the face of his failure. Her gaze moved beyond the table over to the small faintly lit stage where the musicians were finishing the final number of their set which meant that it was almost time for the diva to show. Turning her gaze from the curtains she smiled as the diva made an unexpectedly early entrance from the backdoor of the bar. Wavy blonde hair falling down across her shoulders was highlighted against the midnight blue of her tightly fitting dress. Gracefully she made her way towards Galatea thanking her as she drew out a stool for her to take her seat. Flicking one of the strands over her shoulder, the diva turned a cool gaze towards her fellow companion.

"It is good to see you're still alive."

"And it is good to see that you still know how to make an entrance." Galatea's words were followed by an appreciative look as she shamelessly scanned the diva's low cut dress.

"I'm touched you chose to wear it," she continued.

"Don't think so highly of yourself," the diva chided. "I most certainly did not wear it for you."

"Then I will have no regrets taking it off you." Galatea's reply brought an amused smile to the diva's lips.

"Unfortunately I sought you out for business." Her tone turned professional in stark contrast to that of her companion. "Apple cannot make it tonight…" She trailed off as Galatea let out a laugh.

"With a name like that I would imagine she'd want to avoid the crowds."

"Don't make fun of her call sign." Despite her scolding the diva was holding back her own giggle. "You know she chose it herself."

"To name yourself after your favourite food is ridiculous," Galatea scoffed. "If we were all named after our favourite things then I would be…"

The diva cut her companion off with a wave of her hand and a disapproving but affectionate look.

"You needn't say anymore. I'm quite aware of your favourite things." She leaned closer resting her elbow upon the bar. "The type, the size…" she trailed off suggestively.

Galatea smiled at the diva's words and reached up to entangle her hand in one of the many blonde strands. Her smile lost its smugness and was replaced by affection as her hand slid through the strands to stroke the smooth cheek of her companion. The diva leaned into the touch, her gaze still locked with Galatea's. She offered no resistance as Galatea closed the remaining distance, kissing her with the faint taste of her cocktail upon her lips. Throughout the quick kiss the Diva closed her eyes to enjoy the familiar sensation and felt most disappointed when Galatea pulled away to whisper into her ear.

"Flora, if only you weren't so easy to catch."

The mention of her name, spoken with a tinge of regret quite unusual for the confident woman in front of her forced her to open her eyes once again.

"You do enjoy the chase more than the consummation don't you?" she asked softly, knowing the answer. "You enjoy the thrill which is why you'll never tire of that kind of life."

"Now that just sounds bitter. I'd rather stay for the thrills than out of a one-sided love for Irene," Galatea gave her a pointed look. "You know that she's not interested. She says jump you reply how high? So what has your admirable sense of love and duty gotten you into now?"

"I'm Apple's replacement for the drop." Flora chose not to rise to Galatea's bait. There was little that escaped the astute number three agent.

"Let me guess you took the job for free."

"I'm still scraping a living together out of singing, aren't I?" Flora answered dejectedly.

"Then can I buy the pauper a drink?" Galatea offered sincerely which made the diva brighten up.

"Thanks but I've already had my pre-performance drink. Maybe some other time when you don't have company." She gestured towards the two cocktails.

Flora rose from her seat only pausing to brush her lips lightly against Galatea's cheek. Her action obscured her companion's hand as it slipped the electronic pad into the hidden pocket of Flora's dress.

"It was nice seeing you again, Gala."

Flora quickly vanished from her side strutting her way provocatively towards the stage and effortlessly morphing into her stage persona. She greeted each of the musicians with a small nod before taking the microphone from its stand and while she tapped out the rhythm of the song the music began again. Lifting the microphone to her lips she sang her mournful song of long lost love.

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><p>From her spot at the bar Galatea observed that Flora never changed her repertoire, recycling the same ten forlorn love songs. Although she took great pains to make each of the performances unique there was no denying that the girl was aching under the strain of her unrequited love.<p>

"You look guilty." The now familiar voice greeted her drawing her stare away from the stage and towards the spiky haired bartender who replaced her finished drink with another.

Galatea pulled the drink towards her ignoring the comment. She was happy just to feel the all too familiar bite of the absinthe. Miria's brow rose apprehensively as her customer downed the contents of the glass in large successive gulps. Slamming the now empty glass in front of her she ordered another. Closing her hand around her third glass she looked up at Miria.

"She's not singing about me," she informed her.

Miria had the grace to look embarrassed by her assumption.

"Sorry. I just thought she was your girlfriend with that display and all."

Galatea couldn't help but laugh at the awkward way she phrased it.

"Flora was never my girlfriend. Not my type." She took a sip from her glass.

It was true that the attraction to Flora had died when the diva returned her affections. But that didn't mean that Galatea wasn't concerned when she saw Flora helplessly pining for their dense boss who in turn was pining for a person who was totally oblivious towards her. Love within her division was truly a one way street.

"You must have pretty high standards," Miria muttered but Galatea nevertheless heard her and turned to face her. The melancholy mood that had gripped her previously was nowhere to be seen.

"No just picky. Flora is great but she lacks the qualities I'm looking for."

"Boundless patience or total immunity to your ego?"

Galatea ignored the jibe fixing Miria with a flirtatious smile.

"She lacks stubbornness, seriousness, naivety. I'm partial to those who are uptight, who can never take a break and who play so wonderfully hard to get. Red hair is a definite bonus," she continued. "Not a fan of the spikes but I'll overlook it."

"I'm sure that your perfect soul mate will no doubt take your graciousness under consideration," Miria countered, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

"Miria," Galatea reproached her while lifting her glass for yet another refill. "You're not meant to give in so easily. The chase has hardly begun."

"There will be no chase and the bar is closed." As Miria took the empty glass she accidently brushed fingers with Galatea who seemed not to mind the brief touch.

"It's only eight thirty."

"It's closed for you. You're drunk enough," Miria sternly told her as she reached for the untouched Death in the Afternoon that Galatea had insisted buying for her. To her surprise, Galatea took her hand freezing the bartender with her simple action.

Their eyes met. Miria was curious as to what Galatea would do next. The smell of the alcohol on Galatea's breath wafted towards her but strangely she did not mind, being somewhat awed by her customer. Galatea's intentions however became very clear as the space suddenly closed between them with the flirtatious blonde stopping just short of Miria's suddenly dry lips.

"If you're going to kiss me I would prefer it if you were sober." The words tumbled from Miria's mouth before she processed their teasing nature.

"Miria, I hardly need dutch courage to kiss you," Galatea teased back. "Just your permission."

Galatea's smirk widened as Miria pondered her words before throwing caution to wind to give Galatea all the permission she needed. She quickly closed the remaining distance to plant an awkward kiss upon the other woman's lips. She was aware that she really shouldn't be kissing a customer on her first day or kissing a customer at all. She was also worried about how Galatea would view her now that she had shown her inexperience. However all doubt was cleared away as Galatea, recovered from the initial shock was now taking control. Deciding to salvage what little dignity she had left Miria broke the kiss while struggling to maintain an impassive face.

"That's all you're getting," she muttered hurrying away to serve a customer she had served ten minutes previously.

Galatea was stunned by Miria's abrupt departure but her expression soon formed into a genuine smile which was not disturbed by the sudden buzz of her phone. It was a text from Irene a fact that would have put her in a sour mood had she not been dwelling upon a certain bartender. Flicking open her phone she read the message. It was instructions for another mission and she opened the picture attached to it. Her smile faltered as the image stared back at her. Snapping the phone shut she placed it upon the bar resisting the urge to fling it into the far corner of the room. Her eyes immediately locked onto the girl who was doing her best to serve the customers as far away from Galatea as possible. A faint blush still stained the girl's cheeks but its presence did not make the smile that had vanished from Galatea's face return. The picture she guessed was a recent one showing the spiky red hair and all too serious expression in her silver eyes. Miria moved towards the bottles at the back of the bar bringing one of them to pour into her customer's glass. Galatea's eyes followed the girl's movements. She would be shadowing her more now that she had received her new mission details. After all in her business, love was forever a one way street.


	2. Chapter 2

Bar Mucha

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><p>AN. Thank you for reading and another thank you for the reviews.

I decided to continue this fic for better or for worse. I'm planning to make it a short one as I still have no idea where this whole thing is heading.

Anonymous viewer z: Thanks for your review. I love the show Alias and thanks for reminding me as it proved a great source of inspiration for the conference room scene. As for the man Galatea killed and operation Claymore those questions will be answered next chapter I promise.

Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

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><p>Whoever designed the uniform for bartenders deserved Galatea's eternal thanks. Although if pressed to provide criticism she could say that the vest was too damn difficult to remove when pre-occupied, for the bartender in her arms was being quite the distraction as all previous indications of hesitation and inexperience when it came to kissing, were gone. Galatea was left to conclude that this one was a quick learner. At the end of Miria's seven hour shift the uptight professional had been replaced by a knowing tease who had coyly asked Galatea to accompany her upstairs to the, as she so eloquently phrased it, private rooms. Hence Miria's current position on Galatea's lap, not that Galatea minded although the buttons on the vest were beginning to be a problem. Her fingers fumbled once again drawing an inward curse. Bombs had been easier to diffuse.<p>

Miria, oblivious to the obstacle her uniform was proving to be, was getting bolder and moved to kiss Galatea's exposed neck. The shift brought about by her action manoeuvred her closer, allowing Galatea to undo the remaining buttons and unceremoniously toss the vest into the far reaches of the room. Lifting Miria's shirt, she drew her closer, hands slipping under the garment to trace circles on the lower part of the bartender's back. Which direction now, up or down? The kisses upon her neck stopped. Miria straightened up shooting Galatea an annoyed expression as the circles upon her back continued to be lazily traced. To the bartender's ongoing annoyance Galatea held her gaze, while a smirk spread across her face. She returned Miria's kisses while her hands wandered upwards towards their next obstacle. Finding the fabric, Galatea traced its edge looking for the clasp until her fingers brushed against it. Now that was an interesting find. Miria tensed at her touch. She stopped Galatea's hands from continuing their exploration and placed them instead upon the collar at her neck. Taking the hint, lithe fingers went to work undoing the front buttons while Miria, feeling the need to return the compliment allowed her hand to explore Galatea's thigh. Noticing that her shirt buttons were not proving too much of a challenge for Galatea, Miria moved her hand further beneath the skirt tracing the skin with her finger tips. Freeing the last button, Galatea kissed the bartender once again but more gently then she intended. After all she had enjoyed their brief moment together.

Her hand closed around the handle of the knife removing it from its secret hiding place. She quickly used it to block the incoming knife directed towards her stomach. Silver eyes met as both women gazed at each other, one in shock and one with smug indifference. The chink of their blades meeting echoed loudly within the suddenly quite room. In Miria's hand was Galatea's knife that she had removed from the sheath upon the latter's thigh. Only for the blade to be stopped by her own weapon which Galatea held.

"You really are trying to kill me." Galatea broke the silence to reproach Miria. "To think I actually liked you."

"And our recent indiscretion wouldn't have anything to do with that would it?" Miria asked noticing that one of Galatea's hands was keeping her free arm firmly clamped against her back.

"Well it definitely helps make up one's mind," Galatea murmured appreciatively, her gaze lowering a few inches to take in the view. "Do you work for Hanel?"

"What makes you think that?" Miria countered.

"The rather cliché placement of your weapon. Miria really, hiding your weapon in the back of your bra? Didn't you know that was the first place I'd look?"

"You sound as if you speak from experience? How many Hanel agents have actually tried to kill you?"

"Only you, and as I've learnt, pillow talk is a wonderful source of information." Galatea tightened her arm around Miria locking the would be assassin in its extended embrace.

"Why are you trying to kill me?" She changed tack.

"Self defence," Miria spat back not liking the fact that Galatea needed the strength of only one arm to continue to block her blade. "You have a contract on me."

The smirk was back and Miria wanted nothing more than to remove it but Galatea had locked their blades and by hampering Miria's movement made it extremely difficult for the spiky haired woman to attack.

"You are well informed. Although in my defence I am sorely tempted…" She glanced down to the view offered by the open shirt before continuing.

"_Very_ sorely tempted for the both of us to drop the knives and pick up where we left off."

"So you can kill me when I am most distracted?" Miria resisted the urge to sigh in annoyance at the woman's predictability. "It's your modus operandi killing your victims during intimate relations."

"Now that's just bad press." Galatea looked offended by Miria's assumption. "Tell me what agency you work for as their database is in serious need of updating."

"Do you really expect me to fall for that one? God Eye!" Miria asked seductively. She was satisfied to see the briefest flicker of interest cross Galatea's features.

Deciding to press her advantage, she leaned closer to whisper in Galatea's ear.

"Sweet words and kisses won't work."

The words were followed by a kiss that distracted Galatea enough for her to loosen her grip upon Miria's arm. The assassin sprang into action pushing her contract away, using the movement to unlock their blades. Her previously trapped arm grabbed Galatea's wrist and twisting viciously she hurled the taller woman to the floor. Miria's knife followed intending to slash her opponent's throat only to be blocked again as Galatea regained her senses. The ensuring scuffle on the floor saw both knives kicked from the other's grasp. Miria gaining the upper hand pinned Galatea beneath her as both women struggled to catch their breath.

"Is this your preferred method of interrogation?" Galatea playfully asked enjoying their new found position.

"Why? Does it make you want to talk?"

"Miria!" Galatea shifted under her to get more comfortable. "I was thinking of another four letter word but if you want to talk first then I'll gladly change the order of things."

"Where's the pad?"

"Yours or mine?"

Miria resisted the urge to growl in frustration at the woman's answers.

"Where is the electronic pad?"

Galatea looked thoughtfully up at her before slyly replying.

"I guess you'll have to search me," she winked at Miria. "Try not to enjoy it too much."

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><p>The image on the monitor displaying the two women's banter was suddenly paused to the relief of Cynthia whose face was now bright red.<p>

"Do I need to continue?" Irene asked the only other occupant of the room who was gazing intently at the screen. She held an ice pack to her bruised lip which obscured her smile.

"No. But a rewind and a zoom when Miria is centre camera would be greatly appreciated," Galatea answered her boss.

Irene resisted the urge to throw the remote in frustration at her number three agent. Instead she gripped the edge of the table speaking in a low voice.

"You have no idea what the exercise was about do you?"

"Lessons in seduction?" Galatea was well aware that her boss was at breaking point with her but that realisation had never stopped her before.

"You allowed your feelings to compromise yourself and to endanger the mission. Not to mention the hassle of another agent having to come and rescue you."

Galatea frowned at the choice of words. The other agent had hardly helped at all. No she had been a downright hindrance as the drive back to headquarters had been a solemn affair. After all three was a crowd and Galatea had hoped to have a few private words with Miria before the latter was carted off to the interrogation room.

"I completed the mission to everyone's satisfaction. You have the elusive Phantom in the holding cells as well as your electronic pad. Job well done." Annoyance crept into Galatea's tone.

"She could have killed you at least five times. She's a professional and you acted like a besotted groupie. The only reason you're still alive is because your assassin was just as carried away as you were."

"Or she was taken in by how charming I can be," Galatea dryly counted.

"It's that attitude that keeps you from being my best agent." Irene looked at her and nodded her disapproval. "Anyone shows you the slightest bit of skin and you're distracted completely. One day your instincts won't save you and it's your body that I'll be burying. Think before you strip next time."

With that warning Irene left the room. The door closed quietly behind her. Cynthia shook her head. It was the usual aftermath of one of their debriefing sessions. This happened far too often to surprise her anymore. Rolling up Galatea's sleeve who was distractedly staring at the screen again, she began to add an antiseptic cream to the nasty looking gash that ran the length of Galatea's upper arm.

"Damn," Galatea hissed causing Cynthia to look up apologetically.

"Did it sting?" she asked worriedly.

"No it wasn't the cream. Irene took the remote with her," Galatea lamented making Cynthia regret her concern. Reaching for a fresh bandage she wrapped the wound resisting the urge to wind it tighter than necessary.

"The boss is right, you know." Cynthia kept her eyes on the wrapping knowing that her words had proved important enough to warrant a curious gaze from her companion.

"This isn't the first time. Remember Hotel Dabi? And the little affair in Toriro, although this is the first time you've been hurt…" She was about to chastise her further but Galatea stopped her in mid sentence as her slender fingers tilted Cynthia's chin to look at her.

"I haven't seen you in a while Cynthia and I hate dropping by without reason."

Cynthia laughed softly.

"You needn't injure yourself to make an appointment with me. I recall I gave you my phone number."

Galatea brightened upon hearing the reminder.

"On our second date, correct?"

"I would hardly call a tryst in the storage room a date." Cynthia couldn't keep the amused tone from her voice. "And it was the first so-called date. The second was in response to the fact you never called me back."

"I think I might have to rectify that mistake," Galatea murmured taking one of her companion's braids in her fingers and playing with the tips of it while she smiled innocently back at Cynthia.

"I'm afraid I'll have to call a raincheck." It took all of the medic's will to keep her voice level as Galatea was now dangerously close. "Raftela needs me in interrogation. You know how carried away she gets and someone has to make sure the patient is still alive for questioning."

Briefly a look of worry appeared in Galatea's silver eyes and Cynthia caught the uncharacteristic emotion. The medic filed the knowledge away making a mental note to tell Irene that her fears were not as unfounded as previously thought.

"Yes, it would be wise for you to stop Raftela." Galatea pulled away, all previous traces of her flirtatious nature gone. "I'll call you later."

Judging from Galatea's tone, Cynthia knew she had been dismissed and rose without another word. She paused at the door for one last look at the woman she had fallen for. She knew that to Galatea she was only a couple of hours of fun in the storage room but love was akin to hope and Cynthia liked to think of herself as an optimist. It was a pity that hopes were rarely fulfilled and with that thought she shut the door.

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><p>The annoyed expression on Irene's face remained as she glared at the observation glass that showed the conference room of the Seven Ghosts headquarters. The lone room was still occupied by Galatea whose eyes had remained fixed on the screen in front of her for at least the last half hour. It was an unusual sight as the number three made it a habit never to stick around headquarters longer than was necessary. Irene often called upon fellow agent number five to drag the wayward number three along to meetings.<p>

"Stare anymore and the glass will crack." A soft voice Irene knew only too well greeted her.

"Ah, you finally decided to show your face," she greeted back curtly, knowing that her companion was used to her brusque way of talking.

A faint smile lit the other woman's features as she took her place on the edge of Irene's workbench smirking at the disapproving look her action received.

"One must keep out of the clashes between you and Gala."

"Did you view the footage?" Irene ignored the comment putting business first.

"I admit I skipped the first half. The fight between them which demolished the bar was most interesting. The Phantom's speed is genuinely impressive but I think Gala held her own and survived to capture her."

"You don't think that number three was lead astray by possible emotions?"

Irene's companion shrugged.

"You have to admit it's a good thing their mutual feelings surfaced so strongly."

"Mutual feelings?" Irene's brow rose, surprised that her companion had chosen to phrase it that way.

"It's for best that things turned out this way and they didn't end up killing each other. That would have been such a waste even if only one of them had died. Despite the Phantom's fearsome reputation she hesitated which implies that we may well have found her weakness."

"And number three's weakness?"

"No prizes for guessing that," Irene's companion answered wryly. "Though I'm inclined to think you're being too hard on Gala. I agree that the Phantom missed five opportunities to kill our agent but the same goes for Gala. They were both reluctant to kill each other which is the perfect foundation for a working relationship."

She rose from the workbench straightening out her black skirt as she did.

"Both passed with flying colours, boss. Thus ends my report."

A mock salute followed causing the beginning of a smile to appear on Irene's lips.

"Careful on your next job number one."

"Ay ay, boss."

The black haired woman waved nonchalantly as she left the room as silently as she had entered.

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><p>A slight click alerted Galatea to the opening of the door. Irene entered followed by Cynthia and Raftela the latter wiping the remaining traces of blood from her fingers with a small handkerchief. The three took the seats opposite their follow agent. Irene tossed a file across the table towards her.<p>

"Your new assignment." Irene rested her chin upon her laced fingers regarding Galatea coldly.

Not bothering to restrain her sigh, her agent yanked the file towards her flicking through it disinterestedly. Photos of meeting locations, a bank statement and a profile on some rich socialite were all the file contained and she dumped it to the side fixing Irene with a bored expression.

"Seduction or assassination? Judging from my foul mood and her file I'm hoping it's the latter."

"Neither. From today you will assume her identity. As you've gathered from the enclosed profile her father is a man with high connections and these connections have come to the interest of the Staff family. A family that is notorious for their association with the Phantom assassin."

"Protection then?"

"Back up," Irene told her which earned her an incredulous look.

"Are you demoting me?"

"No." Galatea swore that the edge of Irene's lip twitched in amusement. "Agent God Eye you are hereby assigned as back up to Phantom Miria who has pledged her support in taking down the organisation the Staff family runs."

"Then Raftela proved very persuasive." Galatea leaned back in her chair mulling over her new mission.

"Unfortunately, I was not present." Raftela's monotone surprised those present as the interrogator rarely spoke when not hissing out questions or explaining her new toys. "I would have loved to have had face time with the Phantom but I was busy talking with another patient."

"Phantom Miria approached me four weeks ago." Irene spoke carefully knowing that the success of the upcoming mission hinged upon the way she phrased her next words. "She knew of our rivalry with Staff and offered her assistance. Which led me to test her skills…."

"And what better way than to put a hit on one of your best agents," Galatea concluded connecting the pieces as Irene knew she would. "Did she pass? I'd be happy to add to her evaluation as she was a damn good kisser."

"She passed for now," the boss answered casually. "However should she prove untrustworthy then you are to take her out without hesitation."

Irene glanced towards the one way glass making a slight head movement to indicate that the door to the room was to be opened. The door swung back to reveal the presence of the spiky haired woman. Her left wrist was encased in a brace and a small noticeable cut on her cheekbone made one of the room's occupants feel slightly guilty. Irene gestured for her to enter as silver eyes roamed the room before coming to rest on one set of disinterested ones. Taking a seat at the far end of the table Miria shifted uncomfortably as Galatea's gaze had yet to leave her.

"Welcome to the headquarters of the Seven Ghosts Phantom Miria. You already know your fellow agent?" Irene gestured towards her number three.

"Quite intimately," Galatea answered for her enjoying the glowering look Miria sent her.

"Yes. I am well acquainted with your agent, faults and all," Miria answered cuttingly.

"Emphasis on the all," Galatea murmured earning yet another glowering look.

"As I recall you started the flirting in the first place," Miria shot back determined not to back down this time.

"You offered to take my drinks order."

"I was the bartender," she reminded her.

"A very poor one," Galatea answered without hesitation. "Kissing a customer on your first day."

"It seemed the only way to shut you up."

Her response earned an indignant look from Galatea which brought to an end their verbal sparring in favour of a staring match. The forgotten three people in the room traded glances with one another confirming that one thought ran through all their minds. With a collective sigh they turned in unison to face the still glaring couple. This was going to be one long debriefing.

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><p>AN. Oops, with the destruction of the bar I may have to change the title of the fic. Those two really don't make things easy.


	3. Chapter 3

Bar Mucha

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><p>AN. Thanks once again for the reviews and for just generally reading this.

Anonymous viewer Z: Thanks for the pointers. I'm glad you picked up on the Nikita references, Raftela makes a fine Amanda. The possiblity of the Yomas appearing in this fic hasn't been discounted yet. Hope you enjoy.

Just thought I'd mention that the characters are pretty OOC and never mess with an angry Miria.

Disclaimer: Don't own characters nor the series.

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><p>For an exclusive and highly private mansion the so called security arrangements were turning out to be the second biggest disappointment of a morning full of them. Phantom Miria dropped from the rafters landing neatly on all fours between the laser beam tripwires that littered the corridor. It was always the same pattern, the same one that she had committed to memory since first stumbling over them as an overzealous six year old. Two to the left and pivot to avoid the next beam, handspring to avoid the third ignoring the pain from your newly sprained wrist, moonwalk six paces lest the fourth be activated, hop seven paces to leave the fifth behind and first stage cleared.<p>

It was absurdly easy but Miria was always the cautious type as an arrogant sense of your own invincibility in her business tipped the scales heavily towards an unpleasant death. However it did seem as if the agency, in hiring certain individuals was not too fussy about these considerations. She faulted mid step as the person who easily defined this arrogant conceit with just the hint of an insufferable smirk drifted once more into her mind. Scowl deepening at the reminder, Miria stomped down the corridor all traces of her previous caution gone.

She was vaguely aware of the slight click announcing the activation of a hidden trap and her knife was in her hand in the mere seconds it took for the arrows to come whistling toward her. Dodging the first volley, Miria's knife deflected the next four arrows her wrist screaming in protest at the strenuous activity. Throwing herself into a forward roll to avoid the last arrows of the second volley, Miria righted herself before sprinting back in the direction she had come from. The ceiling above her had opened to reveal half a dozen deadly crossbows automatically primed in sequence to rain their deadly arrows down the full length of the corridor. Weaving in and out of the way of their flight, Miria reached within the pocket of her vest and quickly removed four sets of stars knives. Embedding them into the wall as she ran past, Miria reached the laser beams, again back flipping to avoid setting them off. Continuing her back flips Miria ascending the wall using the small set of stairs she had made from the star knives to reach the first of the crossbows. Switching the knife to her left hand, she severed the bowstring and testing its strength before gripping it tightly she flung herself into the air towards the next bow. She felt the bowstring give way and snap but she was well on her way to the last bow swinging her body upwards to perform a handstand as the next arrow narrowly missed piercing her abdomen. Faltering as her wrist threatened to give way, Miria placed the hilt of the knife between her teeth edging closer to the bowstring. Gritting her teeth to strengthen her hold on the handle, she swiftly cut the bowstring letting the knife fall from her mouth as she did. The arrow fell uselessly to the ground below as Mira followed free falling through the air legs tucked close to her chest. Finishing her landing with another forward roll, the Phantom Assassin rose to her feet casually catching her knife and with a twirl of the hilt replaced it in her belt. Second stage cleared.

Reaching the end of the corridor and thoroughly disenchanted by the security set up, the spiky haired woman ran a hand down the brick wall. She thumped heavily on the fifth brick from the bottom and waited hands within the pockets of her vest for the response to the now blaring intruder alarm. At least their response was top notch as seven men clad in black suits appeared from the shadows of the staircase.

Calmly taking in each man's offensive stance, Miria slipped her hands from her pockets and pushing off the wall she had been leaning against she fixed each of the security guards with a scowl. The bulkiest looking one leered back at her as he cracked his knuckles. The two shorter ones besides him wore similar expressions. Her eyes flickered over to the four who were beginning to encircle her. They took their places stepping forward as one unit to tighten the circle around her. She turned her attention back to the trio but made no movement to engage them. The bulky guy's face broke into a grin. She guessed he was the leader and made a mental note to fire him first thing the next morning. Breaking from her thoughts she caught the slight tilt of his head and brought her left arm up to block the blow from the man behind who on his signal had launched his attack. Was that all they could come up with? Grabbing his wrist, Miria hurtled him over her shoulder slamming him into the ground in front of her and dislocating his arm with a simple twist. The man screeched in pain writhing upon the floor. What a stark contrast to Miria's previous opponent.

Galatea had hardly made a noise when Miria dislocated her shoulder responding instead with a well aimed head butt that sent Miria reeling. Then that conceited woman had effortlessly snapped her shoulder back into place, intercepted Miria's fist, side stepped her charge and due to Miria's momentum had sent her stumbling which had allowed the infuriating woman to slip behind her to whisper into her ear! Further thoughts of Galatea were cut off as the man's screaming reached new heights. Seething with the anger she felt upon remembering anything at all to do with that woman she had unthinkingly snapped his arm back into place. Miria took the next black suit's legs out from under him with a kick. Rising to meet the other five she took the next one out with a roundhouse kick as he charged at her and before his body hit the floor she parried sunglasses' punch twisting his arm behind his back. Reversing their position she effectively made him into a human shield that his comrade barrelled into. Both of them fell to the floor in a heap as Miria moved towards her next opponent. Before he could blink he was looking up at the ceiling dazed as Miria had ruthlessly landed an uppercut to his jaw which crumpled him instantly.

Amongst the six littered bodies the Phantom took a moment to reflect that these opponents were nothing compared to Galatea. They had not aimed for her injured wrist which she was dead certain the blonde would have done and her speed left them in the dust which was definitely not the case for that God Eye. While Galatea couldn't keep up with Miria's speed she had the annoying ability to predict her every movement and that more than compensated. Also, reflecting upon their recent encounter, the Phantom wasn't even sure whether it could be called a fight. Galatea hadn't treated it as such and rather than trying to land a blow on Miria she had been more content with inappropriate touching. It had been a slash from Miria's knife that convinced her that the time for touching was over.

Determined to think no further about Galatea, Miria levelled a gaze at her final opponent. The look of shock upon the leader's features was quickly hidden as he reached into his back pocket drawing out nunchucks which he threateningly twirled in front of him. Miria stared back undaunted resisting the urge to let out another sigh. Zero points for creativity. Finishing his flexing routine his grin widened as she stood unmoving in front of him. The grin unfortunately had turned into a smug smirk. As he opened his mouth to taut her he suddenly let out a groan as Miria appeared in front of him kicking the nunchucks from his hands and into the air where she caught them before delivering a blow to his stomach that knocked the air from his body. He collapsed to his knees as Miria tossed the nunchucks over her shoulder where they smashed into her first opponent who was struggling to regain his footing. Blinking as she came out of her trance, Miria regarded the body of her last opponent on the floor with surprise. She had meant to take it easy on him. But all thoughts of that had been abandoned when his smirk had appeared. While it hadn't reached the smugness of _her_ smirk, it had been enough to make the usually calm assassin snap. And that smirk had just looked so damn wrong upon his face. It hadn't even reached his eyes the way Galatea's did.

Her surprising train of thought was cut off by the sound of slow clapping. The assassin reached for her knife and threw it in the direction of the intruder. The thud of the knife into the ornate wooden staircase echoed around the stillness of the house.

"Miria." The assassin flinched at the reprimanding tone. "What have I told you about throwing knives in the house?"

The lights flicked on to bathe the scene at the foot of the stairs and captured perfectly Miria's meek expression. At the top of the staircase the owner's niece, dressed in a silk silver nightgown stared down at Miria disapprovingly. Her expression soon melted into a smile as she gently chided.

"Miria," Hilda spoke with affection shaking her head, clearly amused as she took in the fallen forms of her uncle's security. "You could have used the front door."

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><p>Around Hilda she always felt like a child, a younger sibling who followed the elder while trying and failing to emulate the confidence emanating from the person whom they respected the most. Hilda gently rolled up Miria's sleeve to reveal the ugly swelling of her wrist.<p>

"A courier should not have an injury like this." Hilda gazed into her eyes. Her concern increasing as her younger companion averted her gaze.

"Fell off my bike," Miria muttered unable to tell the truth.

Officially, Miria was employed by the Staff Family as the head courier delivering messages from the head branch to the far reaches of the family tree. She preferred Hilda to think of her as such rather than her true identity which would completely shatter the trust between them. Out of all the primary members of the family Hilda appeared the most out of place. Far kinder than her siblings and cousins Hilda lived to support others taking a very young Miria under her wing when the both of them had been small children. But the poison of the family had spread tainting Miria and she had sworn to herself that Hilda would not suffer a similar fate. The world was in need of what her friend could offer.

"Be more careful." Hilda's soft tone brought Miria's attention back to her as she carefully wrapped a bandage around the wrist. "I would hate for something to happen to you."

"I'll be fine, Hilda," she reassured her with a smile as she placed her hand upon hers taking strength from the touch.

"I know but sometimes you're just reckless." Hilda finished wrapping and tied the bandage off.

"I'll be more careful," she promised her, glad that Hilda seemed satisfied upon hearing this.

Hilda placed the spare bandages on the bedside table before returning to sit on the bed with Miria. Avoiding her eyes once again, Miria played with the edges of her shirt unsure of what to say. Deciding to break the silence she glanced up only to be cut off as Hilda placed a gentle kiss to the small cut on her cheek.

"I better let you sleep. You look exhausted. I'll have a word with my uncle about cutting down on your work. Goodnight, Miria."

With an affectionate smile, Hilda left. A silence overtook the room broken only by a soft whisper of goodnight from the assassin. Unbuttoning her vest Miria removed it flinging the garment over the bed head. Her hands reached to undo her shirt buttons but stopped as she felt the presence of someone else within the room. She slipped her hand into her pants' pocket, removed the small electronic pad and silently tossed it towards the man in black sitting on her window sill. Deftly catching the device, Ermita scanned its contents, his yellow eyes the only part of his face visible shining in the light from the screen.

"I have to say I'm impressed you managed to secure this," he waved the pad to illustrate his point.

"There were several rumours that the Ghosts were after it," he continued, his keen gaze noticing her bandage. "Trouble?"

"Eliminated," Miria replied.

"Then I pray the Ghost won't come for vengeance, although it would lighten things up around here." He brushed past her stopping as he reached the door. "As you aptly proved, our security is in need of an overhaul. And you have a new mission."

His words caused Miria to face him arms crossed over her chest as she waited for him to elaborate. Ermita removed an envelope with an attached photo from the folds of his cloak.

"Her father has connections which would be a great asset to us so befriend the girl and gain the father's trust." He finished by flicking the envelope towards Miria.

"Befriend?"

"Kiss not kill. Lower her defences until she places all trust in you. I think you're charming enough to pull it off." Ermita's hand rested upon the door knob. "We don't want any dead bodies yet. Remember that, Phantom."

With that warning he vanished. The door closed behind him with barely a sound. Flicking open the envelope Miria scanned the printed invitation inside before turning it over to see the picture of her newest mission. Even in photos she wore her ever present smirk and Miria couldn't help the smile that formed. This would be easy only requiring a knife and a century worth of patience. Her smile faulted as she begrudgingly acknowledged that she was missing a vital part of her plan. Heading to the closet Miria opened the doors discarding each article with the shake of her head. In the dark recesses of the wardrobe she found the outfit she was looking for. She distastefully removed it from its hanger. It was the perfect distraction. Now she just had to figure out how in the world she'd hide the knife.

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><p>The screen in front of her scrolled the words she hated the most. <em>Decryption failed.<em> It stared back at her in bold red letters forcing Dietrich to take another sip of her blueberry smoothie surely the only thing still keeping her awake at six o' clock in the morning. Well that and Irene. The woman was a slave driver but Dietrich didn't mind as her boss allowed her access to all her fancy toys and for someone who loved technology it was paradise. A temporary paradise she silently corrected as the door to her lair opened and in strode Irene.

"Have you decrypted the file?" She asked her bluntly. Double debriefs with agent God Eye and agent Apple always put a strain on Irene's sanity.

"I'm having trouble," Dietrich admitted keying in another decryption program praying that the saying _third time lucky_ would hold true.

Irene nodded taking her spot in the visitor's swivel chair where she ran a hand across her brow clearly still frustrated with the attitude of some of her agents.

"Are you sure you made a direct copy of all files upon the pad?" she asked.

Dietrich nodded, busily playing with the original electronic pad.

"The fake pad that the Phantom took to her organisation is exactly the same except that the important files such as _Operation Claymore_ are corrupted."

"And you removed all references to agent God Eye?"

Another nod as Dietrich scrolled down the encrypted file _Operation Claymore_.

"It's hard to erase someone completely and she was assigned as his girlfriend."

Irene nodded solemnly. The mission to capture the pad was one of the longest in the Ghost's history. She had assigned Galatea to seduce the closest lead, a scientist with connections to the Staff family. The result was the acquisition of the pad at the cost of his life. Irene's eyes narrowed as she remembered, in the light of everything that had happened, how she had forgotten to question Galatea about what exactly had gone wrong. Number three rarely botched a mission and she would only kill if no other option presented itself. Still, agent Apple was dealing with the media and the cleaner was working overtime to cover number three's tracks. All that needed to be solved before the case could be closed was the puzzling contents of _Operation Claymore._ Then all the agency's might could be focused on the takedown of Staff.

Dietrich continued keying in various combinations absentmindedly glancing at her computer as she did so. The usual comfortable silence in which she did her work was now uncomfortably strained as Irene had brought with her an icy tension. Shifting uneasily, Dietrich picked up the packet of salt and vinegar chips she chomped on as she worked. She took several and offered the pack to Irene. Her boss waved them away and with a shrug Dietrich replaced them upon the work bench making sure to wipe her hands before picking up the pad again under the stern gaze of her boss. Keying in yet another number combination, Dietrich's eyes widened as the pad emitted a beep and the encryption was revealed. Pixels began forming the image of a woman sitting upon a lone chair within a white room.

"It's a picture." She held it up for Irene to see, keying in the same combination for the copy upon her computer.

"Put it through the database," Irene commanded drawing her chair closer to the screen.

"No match," Dietrich announced as her screen blinked the same message.

Irene clasped her hands together placing her chin upon them, deep in thought.

"Read the combination back to me."

"Three, twelve, one, eighteen, five."

"Assign the corresponding letters of the alphabet to each number."

Dietrich scribbled the words down on her writing pad alongside the numbers.

"C-L-A-R-E, Clare. It's the name Clare," she announced running the name through the databank only to come up blank once again.

She turned to Irene for further orders. Her boss gazed from the name to the picture before speaking.

"Give me the location of agent three's phone. I wish to make contact with her."

Downsizing the picture Dietrich opened the location trackers of each agent's phone. They both marvelled that the location of agent God Eye's phone was surprisingly showing that she was at home. Dietrich hit the call button praying that the agent was home alone.

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><p>The shrill sound of her ringtone stirred Galatea from her sleep, her hand slipping from the blanket to grope blindly for her phone. Finding the irritating object she flipped it open growling out a low<p>

"What?"

"I see I've woken you up," Dietrich's dry tone greeted her.

"And you still possess that fine ability of stating the obvious." Galatea rolled onto her back mindful of her still sleeping companion.

"Enough. Are you acquainted with anyone by the name of Clare?" Irene's voice cut in.

Galatea gave a thoughtful hum.

"Can I get back to you on that? One can hardly be expected to recall the names of all previous flames at six in the morning. The list is quite extensive.

"Did mission forty-two ever mention someone by the name of Clare?"

"No, it's not familiar." Galatea paused as her companion stirred shifting closer, her warm feet brushing against Galatea's leg. "Is this in connection to the file?"

"It's a picture with a combination that spelt Clare. I don't believe it's a coincidence."

"Agreed…" She paused once again this time in response to the light brush of lips against her neck, sure signs that the woman who shared her bed was now wide awake.

Short bangs framed her face as she propped herself upon her elbows leaning in to give Galatea another kiss.

"Business?" she mouthed quietly.

"Irene," Galatea mouthed back before returning the kiss all intentions of holding up her end of the phone conversation forgotten.

Dropping the phone as two hands were better than one, Galatea traced the skin of her companion's stomach distracting her partner from returning the compliment with her kisses. Hands slipped around Galatea's neck, fingers entangled in her hair only for one hand to wander along the sheets to grasp the fallen phone and press it back into Galatea's hand.

"Business first," she affectionately murmured into Galatea's ear before leaving the comfort of the bed.

Distractedly, Galatea placed the phone back to her ear just in time to catch Irene's latest question.

"Did you make contact with and debrief Number Five?"

The question brought a mischievous smile to Galatea's face as her eyes roamed over towards the figure of said number five who had paused to collect her shirt that lay crumpled upon the floor.

"Thoroughly," she responded as number five, Elizabeth, sensed her gaze and turned to face her giving Galatea a fine view. "I would say that we have a detailed understanding of each other."

An affectionate confirming shake of the head followed. It was quite obvious what Galatea was staring at. Elizabeth turned showing off another of her fine angles as she headed into the bathroom closing the door behind her much to Galatea's disappointment.

"Put Elizabeth on the phone, Galatea," Irene growled having had Dietrich confirm her suspicions and use the phone tracking system which placed number five's location alongside number three's.

"She isn't here," Galatea lied.

"Just put her on the phone." Irene enunciated the words slowly trying not to allow her anger to show.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The tracker system does not lie!"

"Irene." Galatea had the gall to sound shocked. "Are you resorting to monitoring my phone in order to keep tabs on me? You're sounding more like a jealous wife than my boss."

"I have far better things to do with my life than spy on you," Irene retorted all traces of calm gone.

"Would that better thing's name start with the letter T and end with an A? But judging from your irritated tone I'm guessing there's no progress on that front," Galatea continued on undaunted. "But Irene darling, it's not you I'm worried about. Hacker Dietrich has far more time on her hands."

"Are you implying that I spend my time spying on you, Galatea?" Dietrich's voice sounded offended at the very thought. "I assure you I am not."

"Oh, Dietrich I'm merely implying that your self-imposed vow against lying is in itself a lie."

"I would not stalk you!" Dietrich's voice rose an octave.

"But you would like to."

"I…" Dietrich inwardly cursed her vow to never tell a lie. "I.. I… would like to…"

Galatea's smug response was cut off as Elizabeth's phone letting out a shrill buzz received an incoming text message. Elizabeth chose that moment to re-enter catching the phone Galatea tossed at her. Opening the attachment both agents looked at the photo of the lone woman upon the chair. Switching her phone to speaker both agents informed their boss that the identity of the woman remained a mystery. Irene ended the call with curt instructions to concentrate on their mission and only on their mission. As the disconnected sound of the phone hummed throughout the flat both agents knew that it would be best to stay away from headquarters for the time being.

A glance at the clock showed that it was seven and Galatea was about to inform Elizabeth that she had put her shirt on far too early in the day when the door bell rang out. Both agents shared a look, Galatea giving a confident smile in response to Elizabeth's look of concern. Slipping from the bed, the number three agent threw on her dressing gown sliding her knife into its pocket before making her way to the door. The doorbell rang again and Galatea sighing at the display of impatience flung open the door only to stop, surprised at the glorious sight that greeted her. Miria stood at the door tapping her foot impatiently as she waited. Galatea's eyes stared at the amount of leg the dress was showing off. Slowly her gaze travelled upwards to take in the sight of Miria's very low cut red dress which left little to the imagination. Her hair was swept back in a loose ponytail and her silver eyes danced with excitement. Miria glanced down at Galatea's apparel frowning as she did so.

"I'll give you five to slip into something more comfortable."

Galatea swallowed the growing lump in her throat. This was turning out to be one of her better days.


	4. Chapter 4

Bar Mucha

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><p>AN. Once again a big thank you to the readers and a huge thank you to the reviewers. Thank you for taking the time to review.

Anonymous Viewer Z: Thank you for your review. I love that line about Galatea. I feel it would make a great personal slogan. I agree somehow she just ends up with everybody but this is foremost a Miria x Galatea fic so she'll have to behave herself. Everybody loves teasing Irene and Agent Apple will definitely make her grand entrance sometime soon. Enjoy.

Happy reading everybody.

Disclaimer: Don't own the series or the characters.

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><p>Few people in this world are blessed with impenetrable poker faces and it was just her bad luck that she had ended up playing against one. Her impassive face, framed by long, straight hair that was tucked behind her elf-like ears radiated a stern, no nonsense aura. Hell, she hadn't even blinked once throughout any of their weekly poker games. Devene thumbed her cards. It was a terrible hand and what was worse her opponent knew it. Conceding her defeat, she flicked her cards down on the table – two threes the only single pair she had managed to scrape together. Following her lead, Irene revealed her cards placing them gracefully upon the table. Straight flush and they'd only just started playing.<p>

"You seem distracted." Irene spoke as she gathered her winnings.

"New location." Deneve responded without missing a beat.

It was a white lie she was sure the other woman could tear apart effortlessly. But life hadn't been a bowl of cherries for this ex-con. Yeah, her happy little existence had been shaken up out of all proportion when she'd gotten mixed up in Ghost business. Now one faked funeral later, Deneve was thankful for everything that had happened. New lease on life, a shady yet steady business and a poker buddy. But some skeletons wouldn't stay buried.

"What happened to Mucha?" she asked closing her hand around her beer.

She missed that place already. So much more classy than this broken down joint. Why had Irene chosen this as their meeting place? It reminded her of the places she'd drowned her sorrows in year after year as an employee of the Staff family.

"Complications," Irene sourly answered.

"Staff?" Deneve needed to know when the bullets were going to start flying as she wanted to be out of their range as fast as possible.

"Just something that got out of control."

Another vague answer as Irene concentrated on shuffling the cards.

"Do you have those papers I asked you for?"

Deneve dug into the inside pocket of her coat and passed over a manila folder. It quickly vanished beneath Irene's cloak.

"You're on a suicide mission." After all the agency had done for her Deneve thought they deserved some kind of warning.

Staff was nasty business, a contagion that kept going, fingers in every pie and willing middlemen managed a steady cash flow for anyone willing to earn a buck for dirty work. People like her she reflected bitterly.

"Then we'll just take Staff down with us."

From anyone else it would have seemed wildly improbable but Deneve knew Irene had carefully planned the takedown of Staff from the moment the ex-con had stumbled upon one of her agents' missions.

"I assume the package is in order?" Irene asked beginning to distribute the cards.

"I can't completely graft someone else's identity onto another person," Deneve admitted. While her forgery skills were the best in the business she deserved some slack.

"But enough to fool Staff?"

"Yeah, still your agent had better look out for herself." Deneve tossed a chip into the pot frowning as Irene raised the bet.

"Speaking of agents." Deneve sensed the warning tone that had entered the conversation. "You wouldn't be responsible for making agent Apple miss the drop would you?"

Deneve cursed inwardly. That Helen was always getting her into trouble but her feelings always led her into sticking up for the loud mouthed idiot.

"Haven't seen her in awhile."

"She tells me differently."

This time Deneve's curse left her mouth as she shook her head marvelling at a certain individual's stupidity. Wasn't she an agent trained to keep her mouth shut? But then the Ghosts weren't known for recruiting those that followed the rules.

"Let me guess. You let Raftela handle the debrief."

"No." Irene's tone was more clipped than usual as if she had just recalled something unpleasant. "I debriefed her myself."

Deneve bit back a laugh as she imagined Irene and Helen locked in a room and the strain it must have caused that stern woman. Too bad. Irene had yet to learn the seven things that could shut Helen up.

"I do not disapprove of your relationship, merely the obstacles it presents to our goals."

Well that was a contradictory statement. Still, Deneve wasn't out for approval and it wasn't like there was a relationship to hide. Sure, she and Helen were sometimes inseparable and the girl liked to kiss when drunk but Deneve wasn't looking for anything serious at the moment.

"I keep everything professional." Deneve laid her cards down presenting her own straight flush.

Irene's brow rose in admiration before spreading her own cards and ending their game of poker three times richer with a royal flush.

* * *

><p>While Irene had managed to sink the potential relationship between an ex-con and one of her agents the flames of another relationship were positively blazing. Galatea and Miria had yet to break the intense gaze they shared from the moment the door to number three's flat opened.<p>

"I'll give you five to slip into something more comfortable."

Galatea smiled at Miria's words, her eyes now roaming over the other woman's figure. She was a truly magnificent sight. She had a good pair of legs perfectly complemented by that red dress and as Galatea's gaze levelled at the sight of Miria's plunging neckline she spoke.

"Or you could just come in and we could both get comfortable."

A thoughtful expression made its way across Miria's face and she stepped closer unintentionally giving Galatea a clearer view. Playful fingers made their way tantalisingly down Galatea's exposed arm.

"Tempting, but am I interrupting anything?"

"No, we're finished," Galatea assured her bringing her hands to rest on Miria's waist.

Ignoring her comment and closing the door with her foot, she pushed Galatea inside where they were plunged into semi-darkness. Hands sought each other as Galatea pressed Miria against the back of the door. Miria's hand searched for the light. They were suddenly illuminated in a most interesting position. The Phantom's hands made their way to the cord of Galatea's dressing gown undoing the knot ever so slowly while she engaged in yet another heated stare with her companion. Using the split seam in Miria's dress as her guide, Galatea ran her hand down the leg determined to explore the territory that she'd missed the first time around.

"Baby…" Miria murmured stopping Galatea from going further.

The coy expression never leaving her face, Miria moved her hands to the straps of her own dress slipping her fingers one by one under the fabric. Galatea gulped as Miria's fingers travelled the length of the straps coming to a rest at her bra where they teasingly remained. Not for long as Galatea decided to help her. Reaching forth and as she was only inches away from Miria's lips and being always an opportunist, Galatea leaned in for the kiss only to be surprised as an envelope slapped her in the face.

"Maybe next time, if I feel like it." All signs of intimacy gone, she shoved past a bewildered Galatea who was suddenly confused at her change of mood.

Snatching the envelope from Miria, Galatea followed her into the living room annoyance fading as she discovered that the dress also brought out Miria's rear quite nicely. Kicking off her high heels to give her feet a much needed breather, the assassin settled onto the couch turning around to face Galatea and catching her line of sight.

"Is there ever a moment when you're not checking me out?"

"One must appreciate the finer things in life," Galatea answered. She opened the envelope and scanned the invitation before looking at Miria. "I must say I'm a bit surprised to receive an invitation to one of Staff's formal dances."

"Staff is very interested in your father's connections hence it's the perfect opportunity to meet his daughter and gain her trust," Miria explained. "It also works to our advantage as Staff is also using the party to conduct business as usual."

"With who?"

"I'm just the assassin, but I hazard an arms deal? Our previous supplier is no longer trustworthy."

"I'll keep an eye out, but pray tell what will your objective at the party be, Miria? Entertainment?" Galatea asked mischievously before adding suggestively. "Or are you in charge of gaining my trust."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"I recall you had no previous objections."

She placed the envelope and invitation on the table as it was clearly not the most important thing in the room and moved once again to invade Miria's personal space. Miria held her stare refusing to back down.

"I think that having tried to kill you says loud and clear that I object."

"Mere foreplay," Galatea whispered leaning over, her hands resting on the back of the couch inches from Miria's shoulder. "You're attracted to me."

Miria scoffed at her words.

"The only thing I'm attracted to is the possibility of killing you."

The smirk returned to Galatea's face.

"Well, you do like it rough."

"Wrong, I like it…" Miria's voice trailed off as she experienced a wave of awe towards Galatea similar to that she'd felt at Bar Mucha when the woman had previously leaned this close.

Awe and regret. Awe that she found herself unable to move as Galatea went in for the kill and regret that she didn't have another envelope to smack into her face to further discourage her. Not that the first one had helped. A soft cough served as Miria's saviour, breaking the moment just in time for her to dodge the kiss and scramble away before Galatea could corner her again. Looking up at the welcomed third presence within the room, Miria's gratitude died upon her lips at as she took in the appearance of a half dressed Elizabeth.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"I think we're even," Miria replied amused as Galatea shot Elizabeth a withering look.

"You must be the great Phantom Miria." The newcomer welcomed her. "I'm Elizabeth."

* * *

><p>A week later, Miria still winced at the awkwardness that had followed and she blamed Galatea entirely for embarrassing her. She had only meant to tease her after seeing her expression of interest in her own appearance but things as always hadn't panned out that way. No, they never did when that infuriating woman was involved. She just hoped that no-one would screw up and this mission, this formal party would come to a successful conclusion. The Staff family were in full attendance. Their gaunt faces and alert eyes gave them away amongst the crowd. The lineal descendents of this noble family needed to keep up appearances and financed several annual balls such as this where amid the glamour of the wealthy set, most of Staff's illicit dealings took place. It also didn't help that Miria, knowing half the members in attendance had no choice but to carry out her mission which meant snuggling up to a certain annoying blonde.<p>

The two were seated on opposite sides of the room, the assassin, part of a lower branch table whose occupants nervously smiled as Miria downed glass after glass of champagne. Lining up her five empty glasses, the assassin then struggled to her feet before striding over to Galatea who instantly morphed into her air-head socialite persona. The amusement in her eyes was the only thing that gave her away. Now they were locked in an embrace as they circled the crowded dance floor, Miria regretting the amount of champagne she'd consumed. Galatea took photos with a camera concealed inside an extravagant dress ring as she supported her partner who several times threatened to stumble. Miria slipped her arms around Galatea's neck allowing her to support her full weight and at the same time providing an opportunity for Galatea to caress the bare skin exposed by Miria's backless dress.

"You're still angry," Galatea remarked.

"Yes, I'm angry that every mission I undertake requires me to end up in your arms."

"Lucky girl," Galatea teased sending Miria into a twirl before bringing her back to her side. "But I was talking about the last time we saw each other."

"Oh, I thought your attention was on something or should I say someone else entirely," Miria hissed as Galatea, sensing her intent to stomp upon her foot twirled her once again contrary to the movements of the others who waltzed alongside them.

"Your dress caught my attention completely," Galatea admitted. "Although this one's not bad, red's definitely your colour."

"And girls like Elizabeth are definitely your type," Miria retorted stumbling as Galatea brought the both of them to a stop. "What girl haven't you slept with yet?"

"I'd say you but I'm ninety-five percent certain that would prove to be a lie by the end of the week."

"I won't be so easy," Miria informed her. She contradicted herself as her arms tightened around Galatea's neck to support herself as she stood upon tip toes to reach the other woman's height. "I like to play hard to get."

"And I like a chase," Galatea whispered back just before Miria silenced her with a clumsy kiss.

* * *

><p>"Sometimes, being back-up on a mission was a pain in arse," Elizabeth reflected rubbing her cold hands together in a desperate bid to warm them up. The night chill was especially biting on the rooftop where she now found herself. But it was the perfect vantage point and gave her a clear view into the hall where party goers danced the night away. Closing her hands around her sniper rifle once again, Elizabeth settled back into her position lying belly down on the roof with the barrel of the gun resting on the brick work. Looking through the scope she began to sweep the weapon back and forth scanning the room for a sign of her two comrades. She found them on the dance floor and felt quite the voyeur once she saw what they were up to. So her icy reception from the Phantom that morning in the apartment wasn't her imagination.<p>

"Come in number five." Her earpiece crackled to life as Raftela's spoke.

"In position," Elizabeth answered back. She returned to scan the room after deciding to give Galatea and Miria a bit of privacy.

"Everything clear?"

"Nothing exciting," Elizabeth reported back. "Are you in charge of the castle?"

"It's Friday," Raftela reminded her.

"I forgot. Boss's poker night."

Her scope continued to scan the crowd and she hoped that Galatea hadn't forgotten her original mission taking photos of the members of Staff the Phantom pointed out as being important. She switched the scope back to her two companions who must have been running out of air about now only to divert her scope towards one woman who broke away from the crowd giving Elizabeth a clear view of her face. Her wavy hair tied into two pigtails, her fringe swept to the side and her most notable feature, a beauty mark under her right eye made Elizabeth freeze, her hand upon the trigger. The woman swept back into the crowd effortlessly blending in with a skill she was renowned for. A bead of sweat made its way down Elizabeth's neck. This was bad, very bad. Reaching for her earpiece she switched the frequency to Galatea cursing as she heard the static. Grabbing her sniper, Elizabeth scrambled from the roof as fast as she could taking the ladder two steps at a time. Out of everybody why did it have to be her?

* * *

><p>The slow ballad ended and a more upbeat song took over making Miria pull back biting down on Galatea's bottom lip as she did. Tasting the small trail of blood that flowed, Galatea briefly wondered if her own sadistic ways had begun to rub off on Miria who it seemed was far too pleased with what she had done.<p>

"Now that I've satisfied your ego can we get to work?"

The professional was back and without waiting for a response, Miria cut a path through the dancers making her way to an outside balcony where Galatea caught her up. The two surveyed the crowd as Galatea leaned against the railing casually twisting the ring upon her finger which acted as the shutter for the camera installed inside.

"Drinks table," Miria muttered. "Red tie."

"The range isn't that good," Galatea murmured back. "Escort me over?"

With a grumble Miria took Galatea's hand before roughly escorting her towards the drinks table. Playing the part of a gracious partner, Miria collected their glasses while Galatea smiled charmingly at the man Miria had pointed out taking his photo with a simple twist of the ring. With barely a glance the man turned away slinking into the crowd as Miria shoved Galatea's glass into her hand.

"Are all you Staff people uptight?" she asked taking a sip of her champagne.

"No we just have good taste," Miria shot back eyeing her own glass with trepidation.

"Ah, that explains why you can't keep your hands off me." Galatea's trademark smirk had made its first appearance for the evening.

"Already in need of an ego hit?" Miria asked disinterestedly as she scanned the crowd.

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the last person she'd expect to find at a Staff function. She had told Miria that there was no way she would attend such a farce as the family used these occasions to try and soothe their conscience by appearing more charitable and socially respectable. Tipping her untouched champagne into Galatea's half full glass, Miria left without explanation making her way towards the woman who had caught her sight.

Galatea narrowly avoided spilling the champagne on her rather expensive dress. She looked up annoyed only to find that Miria had vanished. Maybe she'd seen something that required her attention? An old friend? An old lover? Galatea returned her glass to the drinks table troubled by the thought. But then Miria was terribly inexperienced when it came to these things. Her clumsy kisses proved that so she could discount that possibility. Now that her partner had gone, Galatea was left to explore the layout by herself and while it had been fun working with Miria, Galatea had been reminded about how she just loved solo missions.

* * *

><p>Exiting the hall, the agent headed in the direction of the private rooms that her previous scan of the layout of the venue told her were located in the west wing. Entering the wing her hand went straight for the sheath upon her thigh, closing around the hilt as the door in front of her opened. Recognition lit the other woman's face as she closed the door behind her.<p>

"Roxanne." Galatea greeted her warmly noticing the file in the other woman's hands.

"Galatea." She returned the greeting unable to keep the pleased tone from her voice as she approached her. "I've missed you."

Roxanne moved before Galatea, her weapon closing around Galatea's wrist with a snap. Agent number three sighed as she glanced down at the handcuff that adorned her dominate wrist. It was Toriro all over again.


	5. Chapter 5

Bar Mucha

* * *

><p>AN. I would once again like to thank the reviewers. Thank you so much. I enjoy reading your comments about this story.

Anonymous viewer z: Thank you for the review and for pointing out that glaring error. Sorry for the confusion. Galatea and Roxanne surprisingly get along very well and Cassandra will definitely be appearing soon. A jealous Miria is always fun to write but don't worry she'll turn into quite the tease =) .

I would also like to issue an apology to all Deneve fans for my most gross error in mis-spelling her name last chapter. Thank you anonymous viewer z for bringing this to my attention.

I would also like to add that I am a complete idiot who humbly offers this next chapter as an olive branch.

Warning: This contains handcuffs which I'm starting to regret.

Disclaimer: Don't own the series or characters.

* * *

><p>At times Irene wondered what evil spirit had possessed her when she agreed to sign up each of the agents sitting in front of her. The creases on her brow deepened as her gaze travelled the length of the table taking in each agent. The trigger happy Elizabeth, who at least looked remorseful, probably due to the bullet restriction just dished out as punishment, the usually loyal Dietrich, whose guilty gaze had yet to leave the table and seated next to her, looking far too innocent, agent Raftela. Cynthia, as she hadn't taken part in the mission was yet to feel the heat of her boss' gaze which had settled on the patient she was attending who despite the large hand print upon her face was taking great delight in Cynthia's gentle administrations over her injured arm. Or was she taking delight in the cold fury that emanated from the woman seated next to her? The Phantom faced away from Galatea her hand upon her chin looking the grumpiest Irene had ever seen her. Drawing upon her inner calm, Irene tried to keep her voice steady as she asked the most pressing question on the debrief agenda.<p>

"What went wrong with mission seventy-eight?"

"The Chameleon," Elizabeth answered while Galatea and Miria both responded to the question with each other's name.

Offended that they both thought each was to blame for the spectacular fallout of the mission being compromised, Galatea and Miria whipped around to glare at each other.

"How am I responsible for the mess you get yourself into?" Miria asked icily.

"Simple. You abandoned me to chase after some woman," Galatea retorted. "I thought you had better taste."

"Abandoned you?" Miria snapped back. "As I recall you were having the time of your life without me!"

"I am sure that Roxanne wouldn't have objected to your participation."

"I was helping get my friend to safety," Miria justified, her face now the colour of her hair at Galatea's suggestive comment.

"Oh, was that the safety of your arms?"

"And how many girls have you had in your arms?"

"Would you like the whole list? Well I think we'll start with the most recent which would be you, Miria."

"I do not feel at all safe in your arms!"

"No you feel hot and…" Galatea trailed off as during the course of their argument the two had been inching closer and were now within range of each other's lips.

Entranced the two moved to claim a kiss only for Galatea to jerk back, a yelp of pain escaping from her as the final stitch to the wound upon her arm was threaded none too gently by Cynthia.

"It is so much better for the patient to be distracted when stitching a wound," Cynthia sweetly informed Galatea.

The other agents snapped out of the collective moment of anticipation that had descended upon the room and Irene shot Cynthia a grateful look. The medic scowled back. If there was one thing Irene knew it was to never get involved in love triangles. Unfortunately, it was just now coming to her notice that her division had been invaded by several of them. Grabbing a chair, Irene sank into it unable to withstand the strain or tension anymore. She vaguely pointed in Elizabeth's direction and spoke wearily.

"Tell me what happened."

* * *

><p><strong>Seven Hours Earlier <strong>

The handcuff at the end of its long chain whistled through the air thrown expertly to clamp around Galatea's wrist. Roxanne twirled its twin at the other end teasing it around her finger as her captured opponent looked up amused.

"Missed me?" Roxanne asked sweetly.

"Cuffs and all," Galatea replied. She took a moment to enjoy the welcome sight Roxanne's figure cut in her strapless mini dress before asking. "What are you stealing now?"

"You know the drill," Roxanne laughed lightly. "I don't answer questions unless you give me a good reason."

"Well I could possibly think of several that include your favourite things." Galatea's expression was playfully thoughtful as she jiggled the cuff for emphasis.

"Oh, Galatea sometimes your stupidity is so delightfully charming," Roxanne chided. She jokingly added. "I think I might be falling for you."

Her words were followed by an almost psychotic smirk as yanking back on the chain she sent Galatea's arm jerking upwards, the sudden movement jarring her painfully. Ignoring her captured wrist, the agent snatched her knife with her free hand deflecting the second of Roxanne's handcuffs that whistled towards her. Another tug of the chain sent her stumbling as Roxanne flung the captured arm out to the side nearly dislocating the joint before viciously snapping it back in the other direction causing Galatea to wince in pain.

"I just love manipulating you," Roxanne cheerfully informed her. "It's an almost guilty pleasure."

Her hand flicked the second chain sending the previously deflected handcuff back at Galatea aiming for her other wrist. Narrowly avoiding total capture Galatea's balance was thrown off once again as her arm was yanked sending her stumbling. Then Roxanne was in front of her. A wide smirk appeared on her face before she slammed her foot into the agent's stomach sending her sprawling backwards. Galatea hit the wall with a thud and allowed a soft hiss of pain to escape her lips.

She hated repeats though so she ducked as the second handcuff, aimed straight at her head, had changed direction. It could be her imagination but Roxanne was becoming decidedly more aggressive. More sadistic too if the now familiar tug upon her handcuffed wrist was any indication. Springing from the wall, Galatea went on the offensive slashing with her blade as Roxanne danced out of its reach. The chain hampering her movements, Galatea dodged as Roxanne's foot lashed out again. She was not in time to dodge the kick. She cursed the fact that not only was one of her arms captured but could one _really_ be expected to fight to the best of their ability dressed as she was. Shame as it really was expensive. Without a moment's delay she slashed the seam in the fabric before throwing herself into a forward roll to avoid the flurry of Roxanne's punches. Before she could straighten, Galatea was slammed into the floor her wrist protesting as the handcuff dug into her skin. This was not a good position to be in at all as Roxanne's boots suddenly appeared in front of her face. Though, if the tease could move a few inches to the left her current position on the floor would be a damn sight more of a strategic improvement.

"Enjoying the view?" Roxanne asked amusement colouring her tone.

"It's comforting to know you still wear black." Galatea's words forced the grin upon Roxanne's face to widen and she knelt at the head of her opponent gently trailing a hand down Galatea's cheek before moving to whisper into her ear.

"A tribute to our time in Toriro." She punctuated the words with a small lick to the ear before biting down viciously.

Yelping, Galatea tightened the grip on her knife and slashed the blade upwards towards Roxanne. Releasing Galatea's ear, Roxanne rolled away from the brandished knife slipping her third pair of handcuffs from her pocket. Aligning them together to form a circle she deflected the knife and upon Galatea's next strike, allowing the cuffs to separate she slipped the left cuff over the knife and clamped it firmly onto Galatea's wrist. Her opponent momentarily distracted by the new turn of events allowed Roxanne to grab the arm and twist with sadistic glee. This sent the knife clattering to the ground where Roxanne kicked it away. To Roxanne's pleasure the loss of her weapon hardly seemed to faze Galatea at all. She grabbed the chain wrapping it around her captured wrist before looping the excess over Roxanne's neck to trap her opponent firmly against her own body. The two took a moment to catch their breath and to savour an overpowering feeling of nostalgia which had begun to develop with this renewal of their positions.

"You're trying to strangle me with my own weapon. That's just bad taste," Roxanne reproached her.

She reached up to pry the chain from her neck but her movements were constricted as Galatea wrenched her hands painfully behind her back. The rush of pain brought a giggle to Roxanne's lips. This was why Galatea was one of her favourite sparring partners. Leaning back with all her weight, she manoeuvred their bodies towards the stairs relishing the thump the other woman's body made as it connected. The impact forced Galatea to relinquish her grip ever so slightly, but that was all Roxanne needed. She reached for the empty handcuff dangling from Galatea's wrist and clipped it to the nearby handrail. With a smirk of victory, Roxanne slipped from the chain, clamped the other cuff to the rail and sprang back to survey Galatea effectively chained to the banister. However she could not help giving a final tug to each of the cuffs making sure that they dug into Galatea's flesh. The agent looked down at her trapped wrists before turning her gaze upon a very smug Roxanne, her own expression on a par with that of her opponent before speaking truthfully.

"Oh, Roxanne I've missed this."

* * *

><p>Leaving the roof far behind, Elizabeth dashed across the street leaping over the bonnet of an oncoming car, ignoring its honking horn and landing safely without breaking her run. Which would be the best way into the place? Her mind instantly dismissed the front door as the last thing this mission needed was for her to burst through the entrance, guns blazing. The back door was the obvious option and she bolted down the side alley. She wrenched open the door to the kitchen area drawing her handgun from her belt as she entered. As she charged into the kitchen, a sniper strapped to her back and her handgun at the ready, the thought occurred to her that this was definitely not one of her better ideas. Nor was it the most subtle of entrances. Elizabeth waved the gun threateningly scattering the cooks and several dishes as she dashed out of the kitchen shouldering open the door to the fire stairs. Her footsteps rang throughout the stairwell as she ran up to the fifth level. She paused to check the coast was clear before resuming her sprint hoping that she could intercept Roxanne before all hell broke loose. Switching her earpiece back to the base's frequency she spoke rapidly.<p>

"We've got a situation. The Chameleon is on site. Repeat Chameleon on site. Moving to intercept."

"Agent Five hold your position!" Raftela ordered her.

"Galatea's in danger!" Elizabeth barked back, dread filling her being as she remembered the last time agent three and The Chameleon had crossed paths.

Continuing her run along the corridor, Elizabeth took out the overhead security camera with a burst of rapid fire. The frustration of the situation was getting to her and in her defence she really didn't need the building's security team following her every movement. With that justification she shot the next camera without hesitation.

* * *

><p>Raftela's grip upon her headset tightened as she heard the desperation in her fellow agent's voice. Turning to Dietrich, a knowing look passed between them. Oh, to hell with it. They would face the consequences later. The hacker typed furiously upon her keyboard accessing the main security frame of the Staff building. Raftela was by her side eyes scanning for signs of their comrades as more screens flicked up with Dietrich hacking the multiple cameras in rapid succession.<p>

"You've gotten quicker." Despite the urgency of the situation Raftela couldn't help but praise her comrade.

"We've all got our specialities," Dietrich answered, her eyes glaring at the static snow on the next screen. "Could you tell Elizabeth to stop shooting the cameras? I'll never find Galatea at this rate."

"I'm sure Galatea will be alright," Raftela assured Dietrich as she relayed her comrade's request through to Elizabeth.

"Ah, west wing," Dietrich announced as the latest hacked camera showed the location of Galatea.

Raftela informed Elizabeth and was about to give further instructions when she was halted by a sudden sensation of déjà vu brought about by the image displayed on the camera. There was no need for audio to know that Galatea was currently enjoying the position she now found herself in. The two ghosts shared another meaningful look before Dietrich spoke in a hesitant voice.

"I've always suspected that she enjoyed bond…."

"Kill that thought right now," Raftela instructed her before turning her attention back to the headset but not before making a mental note to further investigate not only Galatea's preferences but perhaps those of the hacker.

* * *

><p>Clearing the last of the crowd, Miria caught the woman's arm bringing her to a stop and praying her eyes hadn't been deceiving her. The woman's curious expression faded into one of shock at the sight of the assassin.<p>

"Miria?" Hilda moved quickly to embrace her friend. "What are you doing at a Staff function?"

"Business," Miria answered fidgeting nervously as Hilda took in her unlikely appearance. If there was one person who knew how much she hated wearing dresses of any kind it would be Hilda.

"You look beautiful," Hilda complimented, causing a rare blush to form as Miria averted her eyes. "I'm now glad I was forced to attend."

Miria's gaze turned serious. If anybody hurt Hilda…. Further thoughts were interrupted by Hilda's soft laughter as she playfully tapped Miria's cheek.

"You needn't be so overprotective. Uncle Ermita thought it was important that I show myself to be…" Hilda scowled trying to think up the appropriate word. "_Supportive _of our family."

As Miria's expression turned sour, Hilda chuckled and gently linked their arms together. Really, Miria could be the most adorable little sister. She led them away from the crowd over to the balcony, amused that her intimacy had rendered her companion silent.

"Do I have authorisation to know what business I'm currently keeping you from?" Hilda asked playfully unlinking their arms so she could lean against the railing.

"I'm just meeting a potential client," Miria vaguely answered wishing she could tell Hilda more. She was sure that Hilda could provide advice about how to handle her current mission.

"The daughter of the Rabona Family?" Hilda asked smiling as Miria quickly tried to conceal her shock.

"Miria," she placed a hand upon the younger woman's arm. "Regardless of how much I fight against Staff I am unfortunately forever a part of it. I hear things. I was shocked when I heard that the family plans to spread its taint towards the honourable Rabona Family."

"What have you heard?" Miria's voice took on a tone of urgency.

"You know that Vincent Rabona is this country's last shot at a fair world. He's a champion of justice and those types are the ones Staff takes the most pleasure in as they watch them crumble or as uncle phrases it, they become the perfect puppet."

Hilda turned serious eyes towards Miria tightening her grip upon her arm.

"I haven't connected all the threads, but I know that the best way to get at a father is through his daughter. Vincent Rabona is tipped to win the next election and Staff will seize the opportunity to swoop in and take over what little of the government remains. Miria, you can't take part in this mission. You can't deceive them and hand them to Staff. It's dangerous and wrong!"

The Phantom's response was cut short as the sound of gunshots filled the air startling the party goers. Acting on instinct, Miria grabbed Hilda and they threw themselves face down onto the carpet. Glancing up as the gunshots continued Miria ascertained that the fight was taking place on the floor above. Panic seeped through the crowd and a stampede broke loose as guests flooded towards the exit. There was no point in looking for Galatea as she had shown herself quite capable of getting out of trouble. She was, Miria reflected bitterly, probably the cause of the current gunfight. Grabbing Hilda's hand Miria drew her close whispering for her to stay quiet. Hilda wasn't used to these type of situations therefore getting her to safety was the Phantom's top priority. Giving Hilda's shaking hand a reassuring squeeze Miria led her to the closest exit determined no harm would befall her.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth reloaded her handgun's final magazine slipping the empty clip into her belt. Another spray of bullets hammered into the wall behind her forcing her to edge further away from the corner of the corridor where she crouched.<p>

"Under enemy fire need an alternate route to target!" she yelled trying to be heard above the sound of the bullets now being fired without abandon at her position.

"Retrace steps to fire-escape and head to seventh floor," Raftela's voice instructed. "You've got five minutes before you're cornered."

Elizabeth, flinging open the door was already on the move. The pounding sound of footsteps reached her as she heard the second lot of security closing in. Racing up the stairs, she burst through the landing of the sixth floor and ducked through the nearest door. The fire door slammed open seconds later and hurried footsteps filled the corridor. Four men clad in black suits their guns held ready to fire, scanned the empty corridor for signs of the intruder. Creeping towards the open door, Elizabeth quickly took a glance at the situation before ducking back into the darkness of the room. One of the security team, backing closer to her position allowed her the opportunity she needed. Killing him with a bullet to the head, she seized the body before it fell to the floor and pushing her human shield before her she progressed down the corridor. Bullets slammed into his body as the other three opened fire. Elizabeth shot the closest guard between the eyes her gun resting upon her cover's shoulder. Her next bullet claimed her third victim clean through the neck and she ducked from behind her shield to place a fourth bullet into the chest of the final guard.

Rushing back to the stairwell, Elizabeth saw the first security team coming up the stairs. Without breaking a sweat she mounted the handrail sliding down towards her opponents firing off four times before reaching the landing. Leaping from the rail, Elizabeth dashed out into the fifth floor's corridor heading for the west wing as the four bodies of the security team fell dead behind her. Eight bullets down, one to go. Elizabeth tightened her grip around the gun. She knew perfectly well who was going to be receiving this last one.

* * *

><p>The smile never left Roxanne's face as she watched Galatea tug disinterestedly at the cuffs securing her to the handrail. The Chameleon's smile was beginning to turn evil as she continued to study her captive. Oh, she'd missed it too and there was no harm in allowing Galatea to know just how appealing she looked right now. Pressing up against her captive, Roxanne stroked Galatea's cheek whispering.<p>

"Do you know what I also consider a guilty pleasure?" she purred.

"Nope, but I'm hoping it's the same as mine," Galatea replied watching as Roxanne's hand slipped from her cheek to playfully stroke her neck before twisting the handcuff once again to nip into Galatea's skin.

"And what would that be?" Roxanne smothered Galatea in a kiss sucking on her lower lip before she parted.

"If you give me the key I can show you," Galatea murmured suggestively.

Roxanne looked at her thoughtfully pondering her words while reaching within one of her many pockets. Teasingly she withdrew the key to Galatea's handcuffs and used it to trace the skin exposed by her dress's plunging neckline.

"Oh, did you want this?"

She playfully tapped the key to her lips deep in contemplation before allowing the key to fall from her grasp and straight down the front of her own dress.

"Oops," she grinned. "I suppose you'll now have to get it yourself."

Galatea's gaze dropped to take in her new challenge, her smirk returning.

"I'm glad you think so highly of my _skill _but Roxy don't you think you're overestimating my abilities?" Galatea asked moving her hand ever so slightly towards her hip.

"The God Eye loves a challenge and considering what this one entails…" Roxanne trailed off running her fingers lightly up the length of Galatea's thigh and drawing from its sheath, Galatea's second knife which she held tauntingly up in front of the agent.

"I recall you always kept two."

"I think its common knowledge by now."

Roxanne smirked as she studied the blade before leisurely testing its point upon Galatea's arm. She gave a hum of approval as the blood trickled from the large cut she had made.

"Cuts perfectly," she murmured, her eyes still upon the wound. Seemingly fascinated by the sight of Galatea's blood, she discarded the knife absentmindedly.

"Even helpless you never waver," she praised her as she moved to kiss her again more forcefully than previously. Completing her invasion of the God Eye's mouth she reached up bringing Galatea's wondering hand to a halt.

The Chameleon's free hand slipped towards the fabric below her armpit and finding what she was looking for felt Galatea tense as she withdrew the agent's hidden Swiss army knife.

"Well, well what have we here?" Roxanne looked expectantly up at Galatea. She flicked out the blade and brought its edge close to her captive's neck.

Satisfied with her threat she then fiddled with the knife, extracting its various components.

"Ah, a toothpick. That could come in handy," she taunted as she brought Galatea's hand towards her ignoring how her action forced the handcuffs to dig deeper into her captive's wrist. Tracing Galatea's palm she suddenly stabbed it with the toothpick to once again relish Galatea's hiss of pain. Snapping all components of the Swiss army knife back into place she jeered.

"Is this what you were looking for?"

Galatea gave the victorious Roxanne a half-hearted shrug.

"Well, it was worth a shot."

"Worth keeping too." Roxanne slipped the knife into her pocket. "A little souvenir to mark the occasion."

Striding away from her victim, Roxanne picked up the file she had dropped in the course of their fight. She turned back to face her victim, a fond expression crossing her features.

"I really have missed you," she told Galatea seriously as she moved back to give her a parting kiss.

Galatea returned the kiss allowing Roxanne to dominate as her hand moved towards the file and the picture attached to it. She touched the edge of the photo removing the paper clip as Roxanne pulled away. The photo fluttered to the floor as Roxanne slapped Galatea's hand playfully away with the document.

"I admire your persistence, but I'm afraid what I steal is confidential."

Bending to pick up the photo, Roxanne tucked it away into the file still concealing its contents from Galatea's eyes.

"Well I hate to love and leave, but business calls."

"You're just leaving me here?" Galatea asked straightening out the paperclip behind her back before beginning to work on picking the lock of her handcuff.

"I'm sure the security will be forever thankful," Roxanne responded unknowingly covering the sound of the click that announced the opening of the cuff. "Give my regards to Cassandra will you?"

"It's much more polite if you give them to her yourself."

Her words alerted Roxanne but Galatea was already on the move and cuffing Roxanne's right hand to the railing. The Chameleon's eyes widened at the change in her position and she grimaced as Galatea pinned her free arm to the wall with her foot as she causally unpicked the handcuff still upon her left wrist.

"How…? When…?" Roxanne asked before noticing the object in Galatea's hand.

Freeing her wrist, Galatea returned the favour by clamping the cuff to Roxanne's free hand completely reversing their positions. Unable to stop the smirk from forming, she leaned closer to Roxanne, pulled back the fabric of her dress and dropped the now straightened out paperclip down the front.

"I'm sure your most desirable attributes will appreciate the extra company."

Roxanne hissed in response as Galatea's name was shouted from the corner of the corridor. Elizabeth stood at the entrance to the west wing, breathless but nevertheless her gun held ready, covering the two women at the far end.

"Galatea" Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief ignoring for now the sight of the handcuffs. She really didn't need to be reminded about Roxanne's preferences.

"Alive and well," Galatea greeted her.

Her jovial response brought a smile to Elizabeth's lips. Trust Galatea to brush off an encounter with a deadly enemy as nothing. The smile vanished from her face and she shouted a warning as Roxanne broke free of the cuffs. Galatea managed to block Roxanne's kick but the latter was already escaping down the corridor towards Elizabeth. Trying to keep a bead on Roxanne with her gun, Elizabeth faulted as she caught sight of Roxanne's smirk. Reacting purely on instinct she squeezed the trigger, the bullet going wide and barely missing Galatea. The gun left her hand as Roxanne kicked it from her grasp before vaulting over Elizabeth to crash through the window. The two agents rushed to the opening. Roxanne's rope, snaked out and trailing down to one of the lower balconies had allowed her to drop unhurt to the floor below then disappear into the building before making her escape into the night.

Exhaustion catching up with both agents, the two of them slumped against the wall, the adrenaline leaving them.

"I'd love to know just where she keeps that rope," Galatea remarked earning a small kick from Elizabeth.

"Did you know what she was after?"

Galatea wearily stood up helping to pull Elizabeth to her feet. The two returned to where Roxanne had been previously handcuffed and agent number three picked up the photo that had fallen during Roxanne's escape. She handed it to Elizabeth.

"It all leads back to Operation Claymore." Elizabeth stared at the exact same photo that Irene had texted to her. The mysterious woman called Clare.

Galatea hummed back in response as she fiddled with the fallen cuffs trying to decipher how Roxanne had managed to free herself. Approaching footsteps shook the two agents from their separate contemplations. Elizabeth reached for her sniper as a figure rounded the corner. Both agents relaxed as Miria came into view, her knife disappearing from her hand as she recognised them. She approached, her expression silently asking for details of just what had occurred. That expression suddenly lost all its curiosity as she took in the objects in Galatea's hands. Her scowl deepened and Elizabeth had to resist the urge to re-enact Roxanne's escape for her benefit. The Phantom's eyes narrowed in on Galatea who, innocently looking down at the handcuffs was suddenly struck with the realisation as to the cause of Miria's disapproval.

"I can assure you Miria, none of these are mine."


	6. Chapter 6

Bar Mucha

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><p>AN. Hello. I apologise for the wait this chapter proved extremely difficult to write.

Anonymous viewer z: You're been incredibly helpful. I really appreciate your pointing out errors and don't hesitate to point out anymore. My atrocious spelling must be stopped =). Oh, Irene. Poor Irene I really am picking on her. Maybe I'll send her some Teresa love? Glad you found the slap funny as it was well overdue but unfortunately it won't faze Galatea for long. As for Raftela I admit that she's fast becoming a favourite of mine too. I'll try to give the supporting cast more fic time. So many things to do. Thanks for the review and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Thanks to the reviewers and readers.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the series.

* * *

><p><em>Slumped posture – indicates disinterest - fingers drumming upon thigh - signals impatience - languid expression coupled with roaming eyes equals confirming escape route - growing smirk - escape route located - leaning forward - plan initiated.<em>

Raftela's pen paused. The quick notes she had been taking concerned the patient sitting in front of her. Galatea leaned forward and unexpectedly her agile fingers reached out and took a hold of Raftela's tie, loosening it ever so slowly. The interrogator observed the movement as the patient nodded in approval before leaning back upon her chair, that ever present smirk still upon her face. She met Raftela's inquisitive gaze head on, crossing her legs as she spoke.

"You look less formal now, more my type."

Raftela's pen returned to the page.

_Patient well versed in sweet talk - approach with caution._

"And what exactly is your type, Agent God Eye?"

"Raftela, we've know each other for the better part of eight years. I insist you call me by my first name. As for the type…"

_Appreciative stare - indication of interest – careful, dangerous waters. _

"Lose the tie and you more than qualify."

_Suggestive statement - followed by deployment of designated weapon A, the wink - designed to confuse opponent, and in the hands of agent God Eye highly effective._

"Would the Chameleon meet the requirements?"

_Flicker of interest - smile forming upon lips hinting at definite past attraction - rumours of Toriro confirmed. _

"Exceed them actually, but then I've always been partial to red hair."

_Interesting comment about red hair - well worth investigating. _

"Tell me about your relationship with Phantom Miria." Raftela noted that the question hardly seemed to faze Galatea as if she had expected the conversation to eventually veer towards the assassin.

"Professional. Unfortunately." A hint of amusement coloured her tone. "But I'm working on it."

"Are you attracted to Phantom Miria?"

_Smirk widening - covering up for possible feelings? _

"I'm attracted to certain aspects..."

_Completely unnecessary hand movements indicating breasts - conclusion regarding true feelings towards the Phantom - inconclusive. _

"Did these feelings at any point interfere with the outcome of mission seventy-eight?"

_Reappearance of smirk - must have Dietrich pull security footage of hall - possibility of agent God Eye being compromised by feelings - extremely high. _

"Yes."

Raftela's pen veered off course surprised that Galatea had confessed to her blunder so casually. Her composure regained, the interrogator didn't flinch as the agent, sensing her brief surprise was now leaning over the table that separated them.

"If the Phantom had given in to the obvious attraction between us then I say the mission would have ended perfectly."

"You assume the Phantom is attracted to you?"

_Withdrawal - smirk of victory. _

"That's a question for our assassin don't you think?"

_Evasion of question - possibility of doubt regarding true feelings of Phantom Miria - inform Irene – top priority. _

"That would be an interesting conversation but I believe that concludes our monthly session. I trust you can see yourself to the door?"

Raftela removed her notes from the clipboard, shuffled them neatly into a pile and glanced up upon noticing that Galatea had yet to move. The interrogator made her way to the filing cabinet in the corner of her office. She removed the key from the chain around her neck and as she unlocked the first drawer she paused as Galatea spoke.

"Counselling doesn't suit you, Raftela."

Intrigued, the interrogator turned her full attention towards her comrade who approaching her only stopped when little space remained between them. Galatea casually leant on the filing cabinet for support.

"What was the true purpose of this little interrogation?"

Raftela reached for the papers to add to her notes clicking her pen as she did.

_Sharp intuition as previously displayed_

She wrote while ignoring Galatea's gaze. Finishing her observation she answered her comrade eyes still upon the page.

"There are several concerns that your feelings could compromise the mission. Or at least prove a fatal distraction as your conduct around The Chameleon aptly showed."

"I assure you, Roxanne had my full attention."

"That was what we were afraid of. Your continually distracted behaviour is worrying to the point that your desire for pleasure may be becoming an addiction."

_Invasion of personal space – N. B. - agent God Eye is surprisingly attractive up close. _

"I'm sure the majority would be in favour if that was the case."

_Emergence of ego once again - dangerous territory. _

"We can't afford for you to be distracted, especially not around the Phantom."

"Hence Irene organised this little heart to heart conversation."

_Strong wave of sarcasm - indication that subject is deeply disturbed. _

"Well we had hoped to pinpoint the source of your desire and thus work towards driving you away from your addiction."

_Flicker of fear - substantial progress made. _

"You mean my reason for desiring certain pleasures?"

_Eyes downcast - very unusual - push advantage_.

"It could be something in your childhood. As you grew up. An example set for you or a traumatic experience that led you to desire many partners."

"Well, I suppose if you put it that way…" Galatea trailed off looking up at Raftela seriously.

"I guess the only excuse I can give is that my tastes just happen to encompass far too many types and it would be a damn shame to suddenly turn celibate."

"What?" Raftela blurted out as the serious atmosphere between them evaporated with Galatea's statement.

"Did you seriously expect me to have some deep, dark secret explaining everything, Raftela?" Galatea chided her.

"For a moment I did but then you're certainly unique."

"It's all part of the charm," Galatea responded turning to leave.

She paused at the door giving Raftela a thoughtful look.

"Oh, next time you interrogate me, drop the psychological mind games and note taking. You should know there are better ways to get me to talk."

"I'm not feeding your addiction."

"Well, if you insist, we could call it a hands-on experiment?" Galatea's mischievous smirk was back. "After all observation can only teach you so much."

Raftela fought her oncoming blush at the implications and shakily bringing her pen once more to the paper she wrote.

_Deployment of final weapon – temptation - resistance utterly useless – conclusion - book session with Phantom Miria - urgent talk needed - highest priority._

* * *

><p>Miria resisted the urge to crack Galatea's knuckles as the latter entwined their fingers as if this was the most natural thing in the world for them to be doing. Galatea avoided the assassin's glowering look choosing instead to watch the floor numbers progress as the lift ascended from the hotel's basement car park.<p>

"What do you think you're doing?" Miria hissed attempting to free her hand trying very hard to ignore the smoothness of Galatea's fingers.

"Holding your hand," Galatea responded. "No need to get overly excited."

"_Why_ are you holding my hand?" the question was growled out, Miria in no mood for Galatea's game.

"It's natural for engaged couples to hold hands," Galatea told her leaning closer to whisper. "Amongst certain other things that unfortunately are not really appropriate to be doing in a lift."

Her response caused the assassin to grit her teeth. This newest mission threatened to put a strain on her sanity because it was very clear that Galatea was enjoying the part she was playing too damn much. But orders were absolute and they were in enough trouble with the boss already. In Irene's defence, their current cover wasn't entirely her idea. No, Miria's superiors at Staff had been struck with the brilliant idea of moving up the timetable on her mission giving her seven days to seduce and ultimately marry Vincent Rabona's daughter all before daddy got back from his election campaign. This had placed her in her current situation enjoying the sensation of holding Galatea's hand.

In order to carry out the deed, Staff had chosen their own Hotel Pieta as the perfect backdrop for the consummation. It came with a nice view and a horde of the best of Staff's agents to make sure Miria went through with the engagement. Luckily, the Ghosts, well the majority of them anyway desired a different outcome. Irene had ordered them to play along with Staff's game in order to get close to Orsay, the owner of the hotel. As a higher ranking member of the organisation he was on the top of the Ghosts' assassination list. Miria and Galatea had been assigned to capture him but it seemed as if agent God Eye was much more intent on following through with Staff's objective. Well, Miria would just have to put a stop to that.

To her credit, Galatea managed to keep the smile upon her face as her fingers screamed in protest as Miria tightened her hold uncomfortably.

"Oh, forgive me I'll try to be more loving." The words were spoken in a sickly sweet tone as the assassin succeeded in cutting off the circulation to Galatea's hand.

"Don't try too hard darling, we wouldn't want your true feelings slipping through."

"I think I've made it quite clear that annoyance sums up nicely my true feelings about you."

"Hmm," Galatea answered her watching her hand turn slowly white in Miria's iron grip. "It's understandable that you would feel annoyance and I agree completely that we do seem to be interrupted during our most intimate moments."

"Each of which would have ended with a slap to your cheek."

"And which one out of the four would that be?"

Expecting Miria to scoff at her words, Galatea was pleasantly surprised when the Phantom stepped closer, her hand reaching up to playfully touch the buttons upon the agent's shirt.

"I guess you'll never know, baby," she murmured releasing Galatea's hand as the lift doors pinged open.

Flexing her numb hand, Galatea followed Miria out of the lift into the brightly lit reception area. The receptionist greeted them with her best smile while Galatea, flashing her own charming smile in return, noted the nametag pinned to her uniform. Leaving the registration to her partner, Galatea leaned upon the desk quite aware that the eyes of the poor receptionist had yet to leave her.

"Are you two booking together?" The question was addressed to Galatea who was about to engage the receptionist in small talk only to be cut off rudely by Miria.

"We have a reservation." The assassin shot the agent a warning look. Galatea inwardly sighed.

Really, it was cute that Miria was so prone to jealously but to think she didn't even trust her. It wasn't like she was going to flirt with the girl, well, maybe just a bit for practice.

"Under what name have you registered?" The receptionist asked, her eyes still upon Galatea who smiled back at her.

"Staff," Miria told her a little too sharply quite miffed that Galatea's self control was basically non-existent. This could only mean that she would probably spend the whole mission dragging agent God Eye away from the hotel staff.

Returning Galatea's smile with a rather flirtatious one, or so Miria thought, the receptionist confirmed the booking, printed the payment slip and placed it upon the table for Miria to sign. She retrieved the key to their room and handing it to Galatea, she brazenly brushed fingers with the agent as she did so.

"I hope you enjoy our honeymoon suite," she told them, eyes still fixed firmly upon Galatea.

"Honeymoon suite?" Miria questioned. Oh no! There was no way in hell she was even spending one minute in such a room with Galatea.

"Baby, I'm sure that there has been some sort of mistake." Miria turned to face Galatea, her silver eyes displaying her total objection to the idea.

To her horror an innocent smile appeared on Galatea's face as she replied a little too gleefully for the assassin's liking.

"Oh, I hardly think so darling. I put it down to a small present from your uncle."

"Still, I think we should arrange for another room don't you think?"

Although she phrased it as a question the tone made it clear that Miria was leaving no room for disagreement.

"I don't know why you're so against the idea." Galatea chose to purposely ignore Miria's warning tone.

"The honeymoon suite has a terrible view," Miria answered quickly.

Galatea looked back at her a mischievous smirk already forming as her eyes roamed over Miria's figure.

"Oh, the view doesn't look too bad from here."

Faking an affectionate expression, Miria stepped closer to Galatea. She ran her fingers along her fiancée's arm as she spoke, her voice full of worry.

"But baby you know how much I want everything to be perfect and I really, really want to show you the _best_ of the scenery_._ So why don't we arrange for another room?"

"Darling," Galatea ran a hand far too affectionately through the spiky red hair of the assassin. "With me in the room you won't have time to look at the scenery."

Resisting a sigh of annoyance Miria gave up the losing battle and took the key from Galatea. She was not going to trust her with it at all.

"Considering that we will be extremely busy with _certain _matters then I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay in the suite." Miria paused as a sudden thought came to mind and she leaned forwards to whisper into Galatea's ear.

"However, keep your hands to yourself," she warned turning away before looking back at Galatea to add teasingly. "After all we're not married…yet."

Satisfied with Galatea's intrigued expression, the Phantom headed in the direction of their room leaving the agent to trail silently behind her.

* * *

><p>Tolerance was something she was sorely lacking in these days, Cynthia silently lamented as she held out the uniform in front of her unable to keep the distasteful expression from her face. There was something seriously wrong with this hotel and the fact that it was the prized property of a high ranking member of Staff just added to her worries. Cynthia gritted her teeth. Surely there was some security guard she could knock out and thereby gain a uniform much less skimpy and certainly more chic. Deciding that this was the best course of action, the medic tossed the uniform back into the locker she had just spent the better part of two minutes pick locking only to come face to face with another member of the hotel staff. Hand closing around the knife she kept hidden in the back of her pocket, Cynthia greeted the newcomer with a cheery smile.<p>

"Excuse me do you have authority to be back here?" the girl asked.

Cynthia silently cursed her luck. Out of all the hotel staff employed she just had to meet the most suspicious one. Fixing the girl with a bored expression, Cynthia reached into her pocket, removed her wallet and giving it a small flick revealed the fake I. D. that Deneve had prepared for her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't informed that security was monitoring this part of the building." She looked apologetically up at Cynthia while nervously playing with the single strand of hair that fell across her face.

"Need to know basis," Cynthia replied wishing that she had sunglasses to complete the look. "Don't breathe a word. I'm just here to do my job."

"Once again I'm sorry. We're all on edge. What with the boss coming back at such short notice and he so party mad. Something about an upcoming engagement…"

Her words perked Cynthia's interest.

"Know where I can find your boss?"

"He booked his usual suite on the fifth floor room 214."

"Thanks kid." Cynthia smiled ready to leave only to turn back at the sound of laughter.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the girl quickly bowed her head with a downcast expression.

"You apologise a lot don't you?" Cynthia observed. "So what's so funny?"

The girl looked shyly up answering Cynthia's question in a small voice.

"It's just that you're kind of funny." Shock crossed her features and she stammered. "Not…not…not funny to look at…you're actually really pretty…no! I mean…your way of talking is funny."

Cynthia looked back at her confusion crossing her features. She had perfectly modelled her speech on the detectives of the old movies that she spent watching with Dietrich when Ghost central wasn't busy hacking into some evil organisation's network.

"What do you mean I talk funny?"

The girl gave a bashful smile.

"It's just that nobody talks like that anymore, expect the detectives in those old movies. But security's kind of like detective work…wait…What's a detective doing searching the lockers?"

"Just looking." Cynthia scanned the girl in front of her deciding that if channelling a detective made the girl laugh then she'd better channel someone else and who better than the woman who constantly occupied her thoughts.

Completing her scan that surprisingly had made the kid blush, Cynthia spoke gesturing towards her.

"I had to see if that was the official uniform."

A black skimpy mini skirt with a white shirt that was probably several sizes too small and to top it off a navy captain's cap was what the girl in front of her wore and a look inside the locker had confirmed that it was standard issue.

"It's terrible isn't it?" she laughed at Cynthia's disapproving look. "I know it's hard to get used to but trust me, after the first day it becomes second nature. But I'd really like to kill whoever thought up the sailor theme."

Cynthia nodded in agreement. She was really starting to pity the hotel staff.

* * *

><p>She was trying, really trying. All out of respect for the woman in front of her who was so teasingly invading her personal space. She was really trying to keep her hands to herself but to be fair, Miria was playing surprisingly dirty as she grabbed her collar bringing Galatea down to her level so she could place an unexpected kiss close to her ear. Best mission ever. Galatea made a mental note to thank Irene later for the opportunity but still this was a bit of a change even for Miria's hot and cold temperament. After all she still vividly remembered a certain slap that had taken place four days ago. The kisses moved to Galatea's lips. Miria's familiar taste welcomed her and the agent responded without the least bit of guilt because the assassin had only specified that she had to keep her hands to herself which meant that as long as she didn't touch, she technically wasn't breaching their agreement.<p>

Miria stopped. She returned to nuzzling Galatea's ear, her lips brushing against it as she murmured between the kisses.

"The room's bugged."

"I don't mind continuing to communicate like this," Galatea winced as Miria bit her ear in response.

"Cameras?" Galatea asked deciding to be serious as she drew Miria closer deciding that with the change of circumstances this was a justifiable enough breach in their agreement.

"Three." Miria's breath hitched as Galatea unzipped her jacket causing the assassin to tense.

"Where?" the question was asked as Galatea returned to kissing Miria.

"Six o'clock vase of flowers," Miria responded trying not to look too concerned as Galatea removed her jacket. She expertly threw it over her shoulder where it landed upon the flowers obscuring them from sight.

"Where?" she asked again distracting Miria from answering with yet another kiss while her hands stealthily slipped beneath the t-shirt.

"Ten o'clock…lamp…" Miria muttered, her voice muffled as her t-shirt was slipped off to be thrown over the lamp.

Now fully aware of just what Galatea was doing, Miria was about to inform her of the next camera's location only to freeze as realisation caught up with her. From her thorough scan of the room she had concluded that there were three cameras and one listening device. Two devices were left and she glanced down at her remaining clothing. Oh no, not a chance in hell. Slipping from Galatea's hold, Miria retreated backwards belatedly realising her mistake as she backed into the front of the bed. Galatea watched her clearly amused as to just how the assassin would respond to her now trapped position. Her smirk widened only to turn startled as Miria, tumbling backwards onto the bed yanked Galatea down with her.

Galatea's breath tickled Miria's face as there were now only inches between them as they locked gazes both fearing that any movement would break the position they found themselves in. Unsurprisingly, Galatea was the first to move her lips, brushing them tentatively against Miria's own which was at odds with the confidence she had previously displayed. Returning the kiss just as cautiously, the assassin's hands moved once again travelling down the length of Galatea's shirt undoing the buttons in rapid succession. Easing the agent out of her shirt, Miria tossed the article over the bed head and in the process obscured the final camera's view.

"Where?" The single question spoken again seemed almost seductive, given their position and Galatea's close proximity.

Removing her hand slowly from the arm it had been gently caressing Miria pointed upwards towards the fluorescent light positioned above the bed. Galatea followed her gesture locating the small device tucked under the reading light fixture. As she identified it as a listening device, a look of disappointment crossed her features. Her gaze meeting Miria's again, she smiled down at her.

"Last one?"

The assassin's nod confirmed it.

"Pity." Galatea's gaze travelled the length of Miria's figure. Regret laced her tone as she sighed. "I was almost there."

She reached for the complimentary champagne bottle that lay thoughtfully in the ice bucket upon the bedside table. Gaze never leaving Miria's figure she popped the cork hitting the listening device square in the middle, dislodging it from its connection. Bottle now opened she held it out to Miria.

"Champagne?"

* * *

><p>Tray balanced perfectly upon her palm Tabitha exited the lift wondering once again just why a tray was needed for a simple letter to be delivered. Something about appearances but then again if management was so obsessed with appearances why couldn't they change the uniform. The captain cap really needed to go. Approaching room number 369 she loudly knocked praying that the honeymoon couple would forgive her interruption. Faint scrambling could be heard within the room followed by muffled shouts and before Tabitha's imagination went into overdrive the door was opened by a half dressed blonde who looked clearly peeved about the interruption.<p>

"What?"

The blunt question killed Tabitha's hopes of escaping the couple's wrath but before she could respond the blonde's partner still in process of slipping on her t-shirt, elbowed her away while giving her a disapproving look.

"Sorry about her. We were sort of busy…" She trailed off running a hand self consciously through her spiky hair, an action Tabitha couldn't help but find cute.

"Can we help you with anything?" she continued.

Tabitha snapped out of her trance and presented the letter with a flourish. Thanking her with an awkward smile the blonde's partner nodded before farewelling her and closing the door. Tabitha stood for a few minutes outside the room before heading back in the direction she had come from, a sense of melancholy stirring inside her. It was a shame really that all the good ones were taken.

* * *

><p>Turning round, Miria eyed Galatea who stood staring at the back of the door, a glare still upon her face.<p>

"God Eye," Miria called snapping her fingers in front of Galatea's face drawing her attention. "You didn't need to bite her head off."

"She could have given me five more minutes before she knocked."

"Oh." Miria's brow rose in question. "And just what exactly where you planning to do in those five minutes?"

The glare instantly disappeared giving way to that trademark smirk.

"Spare me five and I'll show you," she murmured manoeuvring Miria against the door.

"We have a mission to do," Miria reminded her brushing past Galatea and opening the letter as she did.

A sigh escaped Galatea lips as she leaned back against the door arms crossed.

"And there's the trademark Miri cold shoulder. It's hard to believe that a moment ago you were ripping my shirt off."

"I did not rip your shirt off," Miria retorted, the letter temporarily forgotten. "I was merely playing my part for the cameras."

"Never would have thought you were an exhibitionist."

"You were the one who started removing my clothes first!"

Galatea uncrossed her arms pushing off the door to continue the argument.

"The situation called for it."

"You could have removed your own clothes!"

"And deny you the opportunity?" Galatea smirked as Miria faltered upon hearing her words.

"Can we just concentrate on the mission?" Miria asked wearily.

Galatea relented. She gestured to the letter which the assassin passed to her. It was an invitation from Orsay requesting the couple's presence at the hotel casino to formally congratulate them upon their engagement.

"Staff is definitely pushing for this marriage to go through," Galatea commented handing back the letter. "So do you think we should go?"

"We need to meet with Cynthia to organise how we're going to capture Orsay."

"We haven't got much time," the agent frowned. "With the destruction of his listening device, Orsay's probably getting suspicious."

"Perhaps, we could use it to our advantage." Miria wore a familiar frown. "You could have found them. This would have led to a disagreement between the two of us which would have endangered the mission. So, I meet with Orsay alone to discuss a new strategy."

"It's too dangerous for you to face Orsay alone. You know the size of his security detail."

"I'll be your distraction. I'll keep Orsay busy while you meet up with Cynthia and locate his room. He'll be at his most vulnerable inside his suite. All you need to do is get Cynthia in there and we can take him out tonight."

"How long do you think you can keep him occupied?"

Miria shrugged allowing a small smile to make its way to her lips.

"An hour at the most, he's an incredibly boring guy."

Galatea pondered the plan. The quicker they got this over with the quicker they could find a way to escape their upcoming engagement.

"It's risky. Do you think you can handle it?"

Miria stepped closer to Galatea, her smile turning playful.

"Don't start being protective. I'll meet you back here in an hour."

The assassin turned to go only for Galatea to stop her, her hand upon her arm bringing Miria to a gentle halt.

"If you're compromised I'm coming to get you."

"I'll hold you to that," Miria murmured giving Galatea's hand a quick squeeze before leaving the suite.

* * *

><p>Receptionist Anastasia stared towards the lift trying to shake the boredom that gripped her. It was an unusually slow day as the hotel was temporarily booked out for the upcoming engagement. Anastasia twirled one of her curls between her fingers about to let out a sigh when the lift doors opened and out stepped the tall blonde who had caught her eye previously. Her partner was nowhere to be seen. She approached. Anastasia automatically straightened up on her chair and greeted her with her classic customer service smile. The blonde responded once again with that charming smile as she leant upon the reception desk.<p>

"Do you remember the red haired woman who was with me?" she asked.

"Your partner?" Anastasia looked thoughtful. "I saw her storm pass here a couple of minutes ago."

"Oh. Do you have any idea where she went?" Hopeful eyes looked imploringly at the receptionist.

"She was headed in the direction of the casino, probably went there to cool down. Was anything the matter?"

Her guest laughed giving her a weary shrug.

"I don't think she approved of the honeymoon suite at all."

She leaned forward confidentially.

"We're not officially engaged yet and what with her being angry at me…"

"Sounds like you've got the couch to yourself tonight," Anastasia murmured as her guest took the pen from the desk and thoughtfully twirled it between her fingers.

"I've no objection to a late night visit from a certain staff member."

Anastasia's lips formed a slight smile at the suddenly suggestive tone.

"Unfortunately, our services don't cover keeping lonely guests company."

"Then it's fortunate that I'm far from lonely." Her warm breath brushed against Anastasia's ear causing the receptionist's breath to catch in her throat.

"You're still a guest," she murmured, her face inches from the blonde, her breath inhaling sharply as her guest ran a hand through one of the curls dangerously close to her top button.

"Then we'll just have to keep it off the books."

"What about your partner?" Anastasia asked close to crumbling point.

"She's a heavy sleeper." The words destroyed the last of Anastasia's caution as she pulled the blonde forward for a lingering kiss.

Kissing Anastasia back, agent God Eye tilted the receptionist's monitor towards her. Her eyes quickly scanned the guest list and locating Orsay's room number 214 in the minutes it took for the kiss to end she returned the monitor to its original place as Anastasia pulled back breathless.

"I'll consider it," the receptionist murmured straightening out her navy captain's hat which had been pushed to the side.

Galatea gave her a final smile. As she turned to leave, a hand wrapped around her arm. She turned an inquisitive gaze towards Anastasia who showed no sign of letting go.

"I had intended to continue our activities tonight," Galatea told her only to be cut off as the receptionist again claimed her lips.

Breaking the kiss, Galatea winced as her knee was slammed painfully against the desk as Anastasia pulled her forward once again. Noticing the agent's grimace, the receptionist leaned forward to whisper flirtatiously.

"There nothing from stopping you from coming over here."

Smirk widening, Galatea took advantage of her invitation and vaulted over the reception desk to once again take Anastasia in her arms. Kissing her, Galatea's hand searched along the key rack, the receptionist completely unaware of her movements. Slipping the spare key for room 214 off the hook, Galatea slid it into her pocket. Parting once again to catch their breath, Anastasia left the agent's arms to return to her desk, where she began shoving papers aside in her search for what she needed. Finding it she fumbled before placing it upon the desk where the sign announced to all that reception was now closed.

* * *

><p>She was late, they were both late. Cynthia checked her watch once again feeling ill at ease. They were deep within enemy territory and cut off from any contact with their fellow Ghosts. It was just the type of mission she hated. Galatea and Miria were supposed to meet her half an hour ago at the Teppanyaki restaurant located within the dining court of the hotel. Frowning, Cynthia observed the iron griddle in front of her. Well there was no helping it. She wasn't going to wait for them anymore because she was feeling quite peckish and she had thoroughly enjoyed the food at the last Teppanyaki place she had been to.<p>

As if sensing her desire for food a chef appeared adjusting her white hat and looking quite out of breath.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry for making you wait. Are you ready to order?"

Cynthia glanced up upon recognising the voice. The girl who had confronted her in the locker was staring at her, wide eyed with amazement.

"Oh!" The girl clapped her hands together bowing. "Please don't tell the manager."

"Tell the manager what?" Cynthia asked, amused once again at the girl's antics.

"That I'm part-timing here…well more part-timing at the hotel…but seriously he's going to kill me if finds out that I leave my shift early to work here."

"So you're a chef?"

The girl glanced up giving Cynthia the same bashful smile.

"It's my first passion. So what can I cook for you Miss Detective?"

Cynthia ordered and watched as the chef happily went to work preparing her meal.

"What's your name?" Cynthia asked as the girl cleaned the griddle.

"Yuma," the girl responded absentmindedly nodding in approval now the griddle was clean.

Further conversation was cut off as Galatea finally entered the restaurant greeting Cynthia cheerfully.

"Where's Miria?" Cynthia asked noting the assassin's absence.

"Working," Galatea responded quickly, turning her attention to Yuma as she was asked for her order.

"You're late. I hope you're concentrating on the mission," Cynthia murmured back once she was sure Yuma was busy with their food.

"Oh Cynthia. Why do you have such little faith in me?" Galatea whispered in her ear causing Cynthia to turn away embarrassed.

"I've located the room," Cynthia told her brushing aside her embarrassment knowing full well that several sessions in the storage room had allowed Galatea to find out all the little things that were her particular weaknesses.

"Good work," Galatea praised her slipping into her hand the key she had managed to secure.

"I see that you have been working," Cynthia murmured. "May I ask just how you acquired this?"

"The receptionist was particularly helpful," Galatea answered candidly.

"Indeed." Cynthia shot her a disapproving look. "I noticed reception was closed as I went past."

"I guess she would need several hours to recover." A smirk accompanied the words causing Cynthia's disapproving look to darken.

"You're hopeless," she grumbled blushing deeply.

* * *

><p>Upon entering the casino, Miria had been shown into a private back room where she waited impatiently for Orsay to show up. The door opening and closing behind her caused her to turn around only to tense upon seeing who had entered the room. Her long plait hung over her left shoulder and her silver eyes wore the same sadistic look that beginning with their long association in childhood Miria had never once seen leave her face.<p>

"Phantom," she greeted her taking the seat opposite Miria, clearly enjoying the sudden tension within the room.

"Ophelia." Miria couldn't keep the spite from her tone inwardly cursing this turn of events.

Ophelia was Rimuto's private bodyguard. What the hell was she doing here?

"What? No "_How have you been_?" Ophelia chuckled. "I recall you were always polite when you weren't slitting someone's throat."

"Where's Orsay?"

Ophelia looked thoughtful as she leant across the table.

"Where's your girlfriend?"

"How would I know?" Miria angrily retorted, deciding to stick to her previous plan. "You didn't really expect to get away with bugging my room did you?"

A look of shock crossed Ophelia's features.

"Oh, that's terrible! You found them. No wonder we lost contact and during the steamy part too."

She suddenly grabbed Miria's t-shirt pulling her close, her eyes filling with the murderous rage she was known for.

"Your girlfriend's got a damn good aim covering the cameras like that." She let go of the shirt, shoving Miria backwards as she did so, her expression once again thoughtful.

"Now where would a politician's daughter learn a skill like that?" She tapped her chin, her brow creasing.

"Oh, I've got it. She must be very experienced. I bet you're not her first. So did you enjoy yourself?"

"What do you want Ophelia?" Miria growled dropping all pretence.

Ophelia tilted her head to the side regarding Miria curiously.

"Nothing. I just wanted to know if you enjoyed it, that's all. I like to allow my victims one last chance at happiness." Her tone turned increasingly gleeful.

Sensing the warning sign, Miria's hand was already moving towards her nearest knife when Ophelia struck, slamming the assassin painfully against the table pinning her face down.

"Whoa. Careful there. I know how fast you are and I can't take any chances." Ophelia leaned closer to whisper into her ear. "Unfortunately I have to kill you quickly which is a damn shame, but I need to hunt a certain Ghost."

She cackled as Miria tensed at her words. Threading her hand through Miria's hair, Ophelia tightened her grip yanking her up from the table.

"Oh, that's a surprise. You already knew her identity? Guess I'll really enjoy killing her now."

Reacting to her words, Miria's foot lashed out kicking Ophelia painfully in the shin. An elbow to the gut followed forcing the assassin's opponent to relinquish her hold. Snatching her knife from her belt, Miria stabbed it into Ophelia's chest driving her back towards the table. Slamming Ophelia head first onto the table, Miria heard several cracks as the body in her arms went limp. Tossing the lifeless body to the side, the assassin raced out of the room startling the guards who reached for their guns. She took the first man out before he could draw, snatched his gun from his holster and threw it hitting the second guard square between the eyes.

Racing out of the casino, she ran towards her suite pushing through the other hotel patrons as she did, ignoring their protests and shouts. They were compromised and she needed to get to Galatea fast. Racing up the stairwell, Miria wrenched open the door to the third level corridor and heading towards the honeymoon suite collided with Galatea who caught her before she could tumble to the floor.

"Miria?" Galatea questioned as relief flooded the assassin's face.

The sound of footsteps cut off Miria's reply and she pulled Galatea around the corner into the adjourning corridor where she pressed the agent against the wall as the footsteps of security hurried down the hall. Hand firmly over Galatea's mouth, Miria listened as pounding footsteps faded away. She gradually became aware that during the security's pursuit, God Eye's hands had come to a rest around her waist. Confident that the threat had passed, her hand dropped from its position over Galatea's mouth and she glanced down a glower forming as she saw just what Galatea's hands were doing. And then all thought processes stopped as Miria found herself in a very familiar position as the agent, taking advantage of the situation stole a kiss and released the built up tension. Responding on instinct, Miria fumbled with the handle of the door to the room behind them opening it for the two of them to stumble inside, their hands wandering. Here they came to an abrupt stop as their surroundings caught up with them. All twenty-four members of Orsay's security detail were staring back at them, their expressions hidden behind the dark sunglasses each man wore. As a single co-ordinated unit they drew their guns in perfect unison pointing them at the intruders. Miria and Galatea shared a glance silently confirming what they both knew. Nothing killed the flame of desire quite like staring down the barrels of twenty-four guns.


	7. Chapter 7

Bar Mucha

* * *

><p>AN. Hello. It's been a long time since the last update and all I have to offer in a rather terrible fight chapter =( .

Anonymous viewer Z: Thank you for continuing to review. Yep, last chapter was the GalaMiri chapter. Unfortunately they're back to fighting. I've been wanting to add Anastasia forever and Yuma is so chefy like. The chef hat really suits her. Stay strong Raftela! Don't be tempted by Galatea! Seriously God Eye is out control.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the series.

* * *

><p>If there was one thing experience had taught her, it was all good things come to an end. Rising to her feet, Flora nodded gracefully to the manager of the bar, her serene features giving little away. In one smooth motion she flicked her beige coat over her shoulder and with a wave that personified sophistication strolled from the booth remembering to leave the microphone in the room. Two hours had passed far too quickly she thought, especially when you're belting out a medley of your favourite songs.<p>

Slipping on her coat she fought back a shiver as the cold air outside wrapped around her and a chill wind flicked strands of hair around her face. Sliding her hands into her pockets for some small change she looked up just in time to see the last bus pull away. Well, she always did have crap timing she lamented silently. Pulling a gold coin from her pocket she flicked it in the air catching it absentmindedly as she watched the blinking headlights of cars in the distance. The city never shut down. People were always hurrying somewhere while she drifted from bar to bar unable to find a perch. She doubted she'd ever find another gig as stable as Mucha but then a certain someone had selfishly decided that Mucha needed refurbishing. A slight frown made its way to the diva's face. Apparently the fireworks that night had been a sight to behold.

A sleek black convertible cut away from the sea of headlights and turning into her street distracted her from her train of thought. The car pulled up to the kerb. The coin disappeared into Flora's pocket and as the car's window rolled down she gripped her hidden handgun, ready for anything. The diva's face relaxed into a wry smile as her hand left the trigger.

"Of all the karaoke bars littered around this town, you park right in front of mine," Flora greeted.

"Someone has to drag you away from your misery," a familiar voice returned as the back door clicked open.

Accepting the offer, Flora slipped into the back seat settling in comfortably for the ride as her chauffeur pulled away from the kerb.

"What's the occasion?" Flora asked seeing a small flicker of mock hurt cross the driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"What! I can't offer to drop you home?"

"Come on, Apple," Flora smiled. "The boss never lets you drive the Mercedes without a good reason."

She caught the flicker of guilt in her companion's expression and let out a small groan.

"You stole it didn't you?"

A hearty laugh filled the car as agent Apple joined the stream of traffic.

"It's for the mission," Apple defended herself as she flicked a thumb towards the back seat.

"The girl likes style so I had accommodate."

Flora glanced across the cabin noting for the first time the woman slumped against the opposite door her snores loud enough to fill the car.

"And I thought you had engine problems," Flora murmured moving to examine the heavily sleeping girl.

She removed one of the girl's braids. The motion of the car sent her tumbling into the diva the lights from passing traffic highlighting her face. Flora recognised her at once. The diva rarely swore unless at a certain someone but for once she'd make an exception.

"Damn it Helen," she sighed. "What the hell are you doing with Rabona's girl?"

"Orders from the top," Helen grinned. "Her plane came in today and I was ordered to pick her up so her Godliness ain't running from a hail of bullets."

Flora let out a soft laugh at the nickname. It suited her and was a more complementary name than anything the diva had given her.

"They kind of look alike don't they?" Flora asked absentmindedly. "Heard anything from her?"

"Last message was vague," Helen trailed off as she concentrated on switching lanes. One dented fender and her monthly pay check would vanish faster than she could talk, not that she would be able to, seeing as Irene packed a punch these days and the boss was looking for any excuse to relieve her stress.

"Something about sealing a deal before the week was out," Helen laughed. "Knowing her Godliness and the expression on the boss's face when she read it, I'm thinking the deal wasn't entirely mission related."

"Did Boss pop a vein?" Flora asked trying not to let her concern show.

"Let's just say Raf was the only one brave enough to enter the office. I stole the Merc as fast as I could and high tailed it."

The lights changed and as Helen cut the corner in front of the oncoming traffic the motion of the car sent Vincent Rabona's daughter crashing against Flora's shoulder again.

"At least put a seatbelt on her," Flora grumbled moving to grab the belt and recoiling at the fresh wave of alcohol upon the woman's breath.

"Helen! Tell me you didn't souse her." She pulled the belt clumsily over the inebriated woman clicking it into place.

"And keep your eyes on the road."

Helen obeyed. Her hands that had been thrown up defensively returned to the wheel.

"She drinks like a damn fish and chucks a hissy fit like a dying one. So I preserved my brain cells at the cost of hers. Hell, I even lost track of the number of Death in the Afternoons I bought her," Helen justified returning Flora's amused smile with her wild grin.

"I never understood what was so good about them," Flora mused. "I never saw Gala drink anything else during the time we were together."

She hadn't managed to keep the slight nostalgic tone out of her voice and Helen shifted uncomfortably in her seat before curiosity got the better of her.

"So what ever happened?" she asked as she slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a halt at the lights. "You know…between you and ... her?"

Flora looked out of the window, her startled expression fading quickly from her face as she resumed her poise.

"You love and you drift. You can't build a foundation on nothing and while we're on the subject I heard that you found a little something or should I say someone?"

"Who told you that?" Helen's hands gripped the steering wheel as she sped off.

"That damn Shorty?"

Flora took a moment to remember that Shorty referred to Dietrich. Helen had gone out of her way to give every Ghost a nickname.

"Secret," she replied playfully.

"She got a name?" asked Flora.

Helen took her time to answer concentrating on the road before reluctantly blurting out the name.

"Deneve."

"You're dating the forger?"

The Mercedes veered wildly into the opposite lane a chorus of beeping following as Helen quickly swung the car back onto her side of the road.

"Damn it, don't make it sound so final," Helen grumbled. "Cos it's nothing. Just a couple of drunken kisses."

"Then don't make it a habit," Flora warned lightly.

Helen chanced a quick glance at her companion's suddenly sombre expression before understanding dawned in her eyes and she shouted excitedly.

"You were drunk when you hooked up with Galatea!"

"Nope." A guilty smile tugged at Flora's lips. "She was but I knew what I was doing."

The diva traced a pattern upon her arm rest as she continued to speak, her tone affectionate.

"She was slurring so much I could barely make out the words but she sounded so damn sincere about her feelings." Her hand dropped from the arm rest into her lap. "She never did keep that promise."

A silence greeted Flora's words. The diva returned to looking out the window a frown forming upon her face.

"Helen, this isn't my neighbourhood."

"Oh," Helen tried to sound shocked but failed miserably. "Didn't I mention the mission?"

She jerked her thumb towards the still slumbering girl in the back seat.

"I'm taking her to the Toulouse Safe house and you're the backup."

Flora looked from Helen and back to the daughter of Vincent Rabona.

"You mean we're babysitting Hysteria Rabona?"

The diva could feel an oncoming headache as she saw Helen nod. Well at least she would get paid and she needed the money. Her weekly karaoke sessions had all but depleted her monthly budget and busking wasn't exactly bringing in the money.

"Boss is considering making you full time."

"Oh." Flora brightened at the prospect. She did miss working with the Ghosts especially her boss and any chance to spend time with Irene was definitely worth it.

"What's the timeline?" Flora's tone had turned business like.

"Well that will depend on God Eye," Helen answered.

The temporary happiness the diva had attained vanished as she once again looked at the snoring girl opposite. She knew how cramped Toulouse could be. With a sigh, Flora opened the drinks compartment, rummaging around for Irene's personal favourite. Finding the tiny bottle of Glenfiddich she absent-mindedly examined the label. It was a long way to Toulouse.

* * *

><p>Karma, Galatea decided had a wicked sense of humour as well as being a pain in the arse. And speaking of arses, she silently berated herself for not having noticed how damn good Miria's rear looked in those jeans. Yes, her hand was so tantalisingly close to touching it having come to rest on the assassin's belt. One quick touch wouldn't hurt, would it? The unmistakable click announcing the withdrawals of the safeties on twenty-four guns put an end to that idea and with a defeated sigh, agent God Eye raised her hands. Miria followed suite.<p>

"Darling, I think we've been compromised," she murmured to the assassin out of the corner of her mouth.

"I was trying to tell you," Miria replied eyeing the guns.

"Oh, as I recall you were giving me another message entirely." Galatea had the audacity to give her a quick wink.

"I was just happy that for once you were keeping out of trouble!" Miria snapped back rounding on Galatea.

"Umm…" the head of Orsay's security cleared his throat trying to gain their attention. Pounding footsteps reached his ears over the sound of their heated argument and as he levelled his gun directly at the still bickering women the new intruders burst into the room. Agent and assassin, sensing an opportunity leapt out of the way. Oblivious to the tension he had broken, the head of the hotel security who had pursued them, stopped at the sight of Orsay's men. His five comrades clustered around the door.

"The suite's empty!" he shouted into the stunned silence.

Noticing the twenty-four guns pointing their way, his expression turned quizzical as he noticed the presence of the two women. As understanding dawned, Phantom Miria sprang into action levelling a karate chop to the back of his neck and kicking him towards Orsay's clustered heavies, scattering them. Galatea flicked the light switch plunging the room into darkness. She and Miria turned on the remaining hotel security barrelling them out into the corridor as they dashed from the room, Galatea slamming the door shut behind them.

Parrying a strike from the closest guard and following through with a fist to the face, the agent snatched his gun from its holster as he fell to the floor. Hearing the scramble from within the room, Galatea aimed the gun at the door handle and blasted it away from its position. It whacked the closest security upon the head knocking him out cold. Miria finished off the remaining three with a combination of quick strikes to the stomach and then, her hand entwined with Galatea's, the two raced down the corridor as the door behind them began to give way.

Turning the corner in the adjourning hallway, they heard the splintering of the door. Acting upon instinct, Miria pulled Galatea towards one of the rooms knowing there was no way they could make it to the end. She tried the handle. The door unexpectedly opened. Miria turned back to Galatea who tugging at her hand was attempting to steer her away from the room a look of total objection upon her face.

"God Eye!" Miria hissed unable to believe that under such perilous circumstances Galatea was hesitating.

"Fire escape," Galatea urged.

"We'll never get there in time," Miria snapped pulling her back towards the door. The agent glanced at the room number again and shook her head although this time with a bit more desperation.

"Damn it, just get in there!" Miria growled flinging the door open and shoving the agent inside before closing the door behind her with a soft snap.

Agent and assassin waited, positioned on both sides of the door as the sound of footsteps thundered past them. The two relaxed as the sounds faded away and a silence began to overtake the room until it was broken by a small squeak. Grabbing her knife, Miria whirled around poised to throw the weapon only to freeze as she recognised Anastasia the receptionist staring back at them her eyes firmly fixed upon the agent.

"Miss Rabona?" she stammered.

Anastasia's eyes widened further as she took in the sight of the knife in Miria's hand. Another small squeak escaped her as she frantically began to wave her hands in an attempt to explain herself. She was completely oblivious to the fact that her actions had allowed the sheet, the only thing covering her, to fall to the floor leaving a red faced assassin and an all too approving agent.

Bewildered at the receptionist's behaviour, Miria dropped her gaze as she pocketed her knife before diverting Galatea's stare with a vicious jerk upon her ear. As Anastasia came to her senses and picked up the sheet, Miria quickly reassured her that they meant no harm. Her eyes scanned the double bed before searching the room for the receptionist's undiscovered partner. Anastasia, wrapping the sheet more firmly around her body, looked shyly towards Galatea who flashed a guilty smile. The assassin, ignoring the exchange and finding no-one else in the room, turned back to question Anastasia only for the realisation to dawn upon her. Galatea's reluctance to enter this particular room coupled with Anastasia's appearance suddenly all made sense. Miria's eyes narrowed dangerously in on Galatea who raised her hands in self-defence.

"I did opt for the fire escape," Galatea told her unhelpfully.

"And the receptionist too, apparently," Miria's voice was frighteningly calm.

Inwardly, The Phantom cursed herself for making two wrong choices. It seemed she had the worst luck when it came to picking the right door.

* * *

><p>She owed her big time Tabitha thought, the scowl upon her face deepening. For the last hour she had covered for the missing receptionist knowing full well she was having the time of her life three floors above her. But friendship was important to Tabitha so she had filled in until ordered to hunt down Anastasia because guests were beginning to file complaints about her lack of people skills and it was quite clear that Anastasia was desperately needed to restore some dignity to her office. Relegated once more to room service and pushing her food trolley, Tabitha paused in her journey along the third floor corridor. Room 364 the only key that was missing, well apart from the boss' key but Anastasia wouldn't be that stupid. Tabitha opened the door not bothering to knock as she knew full well that Anastasia's partner would be long gone.<p>

"Ana…" Tabitha scolded disapprovingly as she entered pushing the trolley. It almost collided with a very familiar red haired woman who was practically fuming.

Angry silver eyes regarded her and Tabitha swallowed nervously as she could feel the rage building within the suddenly very scary honeymooner.

"Room…room service," Tabitha stammered not knowing what else to say and shrinking under the intense gaze.

The woman seemed to be biting back a response and upon visibly relaxing she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at her blonde companion who was attempting to explain herself with accompanying hand gestures from Anastasia.

"She's already had it," she growled pushing the trolley aside before storming out.

As she left the room she slammed the door shut, leaving one bewildered hotel staff member puzzling over her sudden exit.

* * *

><p>Still fuming, Miria stomped down the corridor. Couldn't the damn woman keep her hands to herself? Was that really too much to ask of the <em>great<em> God Eye? The assassin stopped to collect her thoughts slightly bothered that Galatea's actions irked her so much. Of course it bothered her. They were on an important mission and still Galatea had been distracted. And what made it worse, she'd promised to be her back-up should things go wrong. Miria's walk slowed to a stop, the assassin halting in the middle of the corridor. How had Galatea managed to survive with her constant distractions? Further questions were put on hold as she tensed upon hearing the unmistakable sound of pounding feet. Oh, no, Orsay's squad was returning. The assassin sprinted back to the room and flinging open the door she crashed into the food trolley. Galatea caught her as she stumbled.

"This is becoming a charming little game, not that I'm complaining," Galatea smirked, comfortably slipping her arms around Miria in the pretence of helping her.

"I thought you wouldn't be able to survive without my company."

She winced as Miria viciously stomped on her toes and twisting out of the embrace rushed to close the door.

"I did not come back for you."

Miria brushed past the agent making her way quickly to the window.

"Security's back," she informed the still wincing God Eye.

Their room was on the third floor and there was nothing outside the window to aid them in reaching the ground level. In desperation, Miria searched for another way to leave realising with dread that the door was the only way out. A series of sharp knocks rang out freezing all occupants within the room.

"Security. We need to check this room," shouted the voice from outside.

Miria reached for her knife but Galatea grabbing her arm, pushed her underneath the food trolley. With a final glance at Anastasia who nodded back and pulling down the tablecloth to obscure them from view, she joined Miria. Another series of knocks rang out.

"Open up please!"

Underneath the trolley, Miria's hand tightened around her knife. If the guards found them they'd be in trouble. She hated fighting in cramped spaces and it looked as though God Eye had no intention of helping as she had taken advantage of their position to leisurely slip her arms around the assassin and work her fingers beneath Miria's t-shirt.

"Don't you dare," Miria whispered into her ear threateningly. "Keep your wandering hands to yourself."

"It is cramped under here," Galatea excused herself.

"And seeing that you didn't like my hands anywhere near the receptionist I thought I'd make it up to you."

"So you did sleep with her!" Miria's whispering had gotten louder.

"I was gathering vital information," Galatea hissed back.

"What was that about? Her bra size?"

For a brief moment, Galatea looked bewildered, before a slight smirk formed.

"It was a welcome bonus but that wasn't my original intention..."

Further whispering was silenced as Tabitha delivered a painful kick by way of warning as the door to the room swung open and two suits entered. Tabitha and Anastasia exchanged glances as the two guards scanned the room.

"What are you hotel staff doing here?" one of the men rudely questioned.

"Umm…Cleaning?" Tabitha replied as she looked at Anastasia who self-consciously wrapped the sheet even tighter around herself.

"Ah, get out of the way."

His partner shoved her aside as he began to look around the room. Completing his search he shook his head at his companion before turning to leave. He stopped upon noticing the food trolley. As he quickly made his way towards it, his hand reaching to lift the tablecloth, the two hotel staff members exchanged a frantic look.

"Wait!" Anastasia shouted successfully drawing his attention.

She fidgeted nervously under his gaze glancing at his sunglasses and desperately trying to think up a distraction.

"What are you looking for?" She asked the first question that came to mind.

His black shoes disappeared from the front of the trolley and Galatea and Miria breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Still, they were unable to move lest they gave away their position. Suddenly Miria tensed in Galatea's arms as the agent leaned closer to claim the prize in front of her. But Miria was faster and slapping a hand over Galatea's mouth she effectively halted her progress as her silver eyes glared their total objection. A brief flicker of disappointment crossed God Eye's face until she began kissing the palm covering her mouth. This sensation caused Miria to pull away in shock knocking her head against the top of the trolley. The resulting bang echoed throughout the room. Anastasia and Tabitha both froze, groaning inwardly at the stupidity of these honeymooners.

"Possible disturbance in room 364."

The man closest to the trolley spoke rapidly into his earpiece before levelling his gun at the source of the commotion. He reached out grabbing the tablecloth to pull it aside. A knife thrust into his gun arm made him scream briefly in agony until Miria punched him in the stomach sending him to the floor. His companion seized Tabitha and stuck his weapon into her ribs.

"Hold it right there!" he yelled.

A slight movement from the trolley diverted his attention, the gun leaving Tabitha's ribs in favour of a clear shot at Galatea emerging from beneath the trolley and stretching her cramped muscles.

"Stop or I'll shoot," he continued as the agent gave him a disinterested look.

"That goes for you too," he cautioned Miria swinging his gun back to cover her position only for his eyes to briefly widen behind his sunglasses.

The Phantom was no longer there and he blinked as she re-appeared in front of him taking him out with a single strike. Over his falling body Miria glared at Galatea but as he hit the floor, Tabitha unexpectedly was rushing into her arms gripping the back of her t-shirt. Miria stumbled back under her assault. The hotel staff member was shaking with fright. Miria tried to console her by patting her awkwardly upon the back until Anastasia broke the silence with her question.

"Who the hell are you people?"

* * *

><p>Yuma took a breath to calm her raging nerves. It was simple. She <em>could<em> do this even though she'd tried many times before and it had never ever worked she reminded herself. Thoroughly disenchanted, the chef turned to face Cynthia who, as if sensing her nerves gave her a smile of encouragement. That nearly sent the quivering egg yolk on her stainless steel spatula splattering onto the iron griddle below.

"Careful," Cynthia gently chided not helping the situation at all.

"Sorry I've never done this before," Yuma reluctantly admitted.

"Then don't rush it kid. We've got all the time in the world," Cynthia reassured her looking amused as the chef's face turned a brilliant shade of red.

Squaring her shoulders, Yuma gave Cynthia a shaky smile before flipping the yolk into the air. While it was in flight, describing a perfect parabola in what seemed like slow motion, the chef turned her utensil to catch the yolk on the back of the spatula. She performed the move again successfully bringing a murmur of approval from Cynthia.

"Not bad, kid," she praised her.

"I'm not finished," Yuma told her oblivious to the fact that due to her extreme concentration her tongue was sticking out.

Cynthia couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of her. She was one interesting kid. Yuma tossed the egg into the air one last time and bringing her spatula slamming down towards the griddle she sliced the yolk cleanly in two with her movement. The two halves hit the hot griddle with a hiss.

"Now that was good," Cynthia clapped drawing another blush from her chef.

"Oh...umm…it's nothing special," Yuma hastened to assure her as she began to cook the egg, nervously shuffling the two halves around.

"I would have thought the egg yolk trick was the main attraction," Cynthia answered chuckling as Yuma looked shyly away.

"Not that the food wasn't excellent," she added. "We enjoyed the meal."

"Not a problem," Yuma smiled. "I'm just glad your girlfriend enjoyed the food as she left in a…a hurry."

The chef trailed off not meeting Cynthia's suddenly curious gaze.

"My what?" she asked.

Yuma continued to avoid her gaze, eyes upon her cooking which was suddenly very interesting.

"Yuma." The sound of her name brought back the chef's attention. She inwardly scolded herself for thinking that her simple name sounded so musical when spoken by Cynthia.

"I...Umm…better get back to work," Yuma murmured.

It would be very unprofessional to continue asking questions. And it wasn't really her business who Miss Detective dated and it wasn't like she was going to see her again after this. Yes, she would vanish through those doors with a casual wave and a departing line ripped straight from the chef's favourite movie.

Yuma's spatula stopped shifting the egg around the griddle at that thought. Inwardly sighing, the chef berated herself for getting so attached. Hadn't Anastasia and Tabitha warned her about keeping it professional? Caught up in her contemplation she was unaware of the movements of her spatula as it began to rapidly cut the egg into pieces. Cynthia's brow rose in admiration as she watched the movement.

"You know," Cynthia kept her eyes upon the spatula. "She's not my girlfriend."

Her words shocked Yuma whose spatula nearly flew from her hand as a silly grin formed upon her face. A chuckle from Cynthia caused the chef to blush and embarrassed again, she attempted to hide her face by pulling down on her chef's hat.

"I'm an idiot," she grumbled.

"No, I'd say you're one funny kid."

Yuma looked up at her sensing the sincerity in the medic's words and was about to reply when she noticed six black suited men enter the restaurant. They made their way towards Cynthia. The leader touched her lightly on the shoulder causing her to flinch as she resisted the urge to grab his arm and slam him to the bench. Deciding to maintain her cover for as long as possible and taking into account the large number of patrons in the restaurant, Cynthia turned to face him displaying her most engaging smile.

"Is there a problem sir?" she inquired sweetly.

"Miss, you're going to have to come with me. The boss wants a few words with you." As he spoke he pulled back his jacket to display his handgun.

"I'm afraid I'm currently in the middle of eating," Cynthia informed him in the same sweet tone her hands closing around the chopsticks she held.

"This can't wait, miss," he said in a serious, warning tone of voice.

As he reached towards his weapon Cynthia stabbed his hand with her chopsticks before kicking him backwards. His stumble produced a sudden silence throughout the restaurant as everyone turned to look in the direction of the disturbance. Nursing his wounded hand, the security fixed Cynthia with an angry look.

"You little…" he snarled.

The silence in the restaurant was shattered as he signalled his five men to attack. Screams erupted from the diners as they scrambled to get out of the way. Cynthia briefly heard the chants of fight, fight as she abandoned her stool for another. Wrapping her legs around the now vacant stool she lifted it and hurled it into the face of her chopstick victim.

Her next opponent seizing her jacket, pulled her from the stool and slammed her against the bench. Cynthia struggled in his grip as one of his hands pushed down upon her head which was now inches from Yuma's hot griddle. Unable to free herself, Cynthia was preparing for the worst possible outcome when she felt his hand relax. Unbelievably, he was now defending himself against pieces of egg flicked into his face. As the egg assault continued, Cynthia scrambled to her feet. Just in time too as her saviour had run out of egg and upon that realisation had frozen behind her outstretched spatula, eyes wide with fright. The security removed the sunglasses which had suffered the most hits from Yuma's attack and tossing them aside advanced menacingly towards the chef. He never reached her as Cynthia kicked the closest stool into his path, which effectively tripping him up, sent him crashing head first against the bench, cancelling him out of the fight.

The four remaining guards attacked as a unit barrelling towards Cynthia who grabbing the closest rice bowls threw them at her incoming opponents. The heavy ceramic bowls, thankfully one of Orsay's little authentic touches took out two of the targets which now left only these two to deal with. One struck out with a punch which the medic deflected only for her next opponent to kick her backwards, Cynthia catching herself painfully on the edge of the bench before tumbling to the floor. Her opponent followed through and standing in front of her before the medic could blink he pulled her to her feet and with a well aimed punch sent her crashing into the nearest table.

"Miss detective!" Yuma shouted, her concern for Cynthia releasing her from the fear that had rooted her to the spot.

"I don't think you'll be able to help her." The hulking form in front of her mocked her expression of concern. "You're going to pay for that little trick with the egg."

He circled around the table so the griddle was no longer between them. A grin formed at the sight of the expression upon the chef's face as she frantically looked for a way out. This one had every right to be scared as the Boss hadn't said _anything_ about sparing the lives of the Ghost's accomplices.

As he moved to take her out, Yuma dropped her spatula in favour of grabbing the nearest thing, anything, and shoving it out in front of her to ward him off. Squeezing her eyes shut, Yuma gripped the object and gritted her teeth as she waited for the end. Instead, a shout came from her opponent as he stumbled backwards tearing off his sunglasses in an effort to wipe his face. Confusion crossed her features. Yuma looked down at the bottle in her hand and as she identified it as her cooking oil, a silly grin overtook her features. She looked at the man in front of her still scrubbing his face. One point to Chef Yuma, zero to the enemy. Yuma completed her victory with a slight twirl of the oil bottle. She could get used to this.

* * *

><p>Her body groaning in protest over its rough treatment, Cynthia scrambled away from her opponent lest another punch connect. Wasn't there a weapon she could use? A brief scrutiny of the table's contents strewn across the floor showed her a distinct possibility. Flipping to her feet, Cynthia went on the attack ramming the wine glass into the face of her opponent and ending the fight with his bloodied retreat.<p>

Yuma's victory celebration screeched to a halt as the guard having cleaned his face shot her a murderous look before reaching for his gun. Oh, no not good. Yuma dropped the oil and raised her hands in surrender.

"Yuma!" Cynthia shouted. She caught their attention as she ran towards them.

Too late! The bullet left the chamber and punctured the chef's hat. As Yuma dropped cowering to the floor, Cynthia leapt over the griddle. She drop kicked the guard sending the gun flying from his hand. Seizing him by the jacket, Cynthia hurled him over the griddle and was about to finish him off when she froze. He had snatched a gun from the belt of his comrade and was pointing it straight at the medic.

"Game over, Ghost," he growled and as he prepared to shoot, a spatula struck him in the face.

"What the...?"

He didn't recover from his surprise as Cynthia ended his nightmare with a bullet from his own gun right between the eyes.

Regarding the fallen guard with little sympathy, Cynthia turned to Yuma only to find the chef had frozen on hearing the sound of the gun discharge.

"Nice throw kid," Cynthia praised her breaking her from her stupor.

Yuma's eyes widened upon realising that her spatula was no longer in her hand and began to panic upon seeing the fallen security guard.

"I…I…didn't mean….I wasn't….to throw it…"

Her frantic explanation stopped as Cynthia laid a hand upon her shoulder causing Yuma to look tearfully at her.

"I owe you kid." Cynthia smiled taking her hand and tugging her towards the exit of the restaurant.

"But we've got to scram."

* * *

><p>Disbelief crossed Orsay's face, the piece of chicken falling from his fork as he watched the events play out on the monitor. Six of his finest guards had proved to be utterly useless against a single Ghost who had defeated them and made her escape. What was he paying them for? This was just another unbelievably embarrassing incident which was just too hard to credit. And after his whole security detail had allowed the Phantom to get away despite having her at gun point. Now he had two Ghosts and a deadly assassin running around his hotel. This wasn't going to plan at all and he didn't have the cameras to follow the Ghost's escape.<p>

Abandoning his meal, Orsay grabbed the control changing the monitors to display the inside of his private office located within the casino. His lips formed into a mean, thin line of displeasure at the sight of the body upon the floor. And here was the biggest disappointment of all. Wasn't she meant to be Rimuto's bodyguard? So much for leaving matters up to her. He grabbed the ear piece near his chair rest and tuned into Ophelia's frequency.

"Isn't it time you stopped playing dead?" he hissed, eyes upon the monitor.

His words were greeted with movement as Ophelia slowly pulled herself to her feet and the cracking of her neck was heard loud and clear through the ear piece. Disinterestedly, Ophelia yanked the knife from her chest tossing it over her shoulder where it thumped into the wall. She looked down at the vest that had saved her life, nodding appreciatively before her hand made its way to her forehead. She frowned upon discovering the small trickle of blood from the gash which had resulted from having her head slammed into the table.

"I need you to intercept a Ghost," Orsay told her feeling slightly sick at the sight of Ophelia who continued to crack her neck.

"Phantom takes priority." Ophelia turned towards Orsay's hidden camera, a vicious smile overtaking her features.

"Get the Ghost and the Phantom will come running," Orsay assured her. "The Ghost is very close to your position and currently in the company of a chef."

Ophelia seemed to ponder his words before shrugging and finally making her way towards the door. She only stopped when Orsay's voice sounded once again in her ear.

"Remember I want the Ghost alive."

A cruel smile made its way to Ophelia's lips and she replied in a joyful tone.

"That will depend on her luck."

In his hotel room, Orsay shivered at her words. Correction. He now had two Ghosts and two deadly assassins running around his hotel. He returned to his chicken hardly savouring the Tandoori spices. It was turning out to be a horrible night.

* * *

><p>Anastasia closed the bathroom door behind her leaving Miria and Galatea to address the awkward silence that had descended over the room.<p>

"I don't think she believed us," Miria voiced the obvious as she helped Galatea drag the other body into the built-in wardrobe. She picked up one of the uniforms she had stripped from the guards and threw it at Galatea.

"I'm not wearing this." Galatea held up the shirt not bothering to hide her distaste.

"Then how do you suggest we get to Orsay?" Miria removed her shirt as she began to change into her new disguise.

Expecting Galatea to continue complaining, she looked up when she became aware that Galatea had lost interest in the matter of the uniform and was eyeing her intently letting out a small hum of approval.

"We could always disguise you as a hotel staff member. I've never seen you in a mini skirt and it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity," she continued.

"And what would you be doing?" The question was asked in the iciest of tones.

"Apart from you, not much at all."

A t-shirt smacked her in the face thrown full force by a very angry Phantom. Gathering up her uniform, Miria stormed into the bathroom. Galatea removed the shirt just in time to catch a final glimpse as the door slammed shut cutting off Anastasia's startled shout as Miria entered.

A smirk forming, Galatea began to unbutton her own shirt, clearly amused at Miria's reaction. She glanced up to meet Tabitha's gaze having forgotten the girl's presence. As Galatea gave her a flirtatious smile in order to make up for her oversight, Tabitha rolled her eyes at the agent's behaviour. Seconds later her face was turning bright red upon seeing Galatea teasingly and oh so slowly removing her shirt. Tabitha quickly turned around to read the instructions for hotel guests attached to the back of the door.

"Are you finished?" she squeaked after she had read rule number 7 about _No Pets Allowed._ She cursed her now high pitched voice.

"I've just started," Galatea replied the coy tone in her voice unmistakeable.

"Although, I couldn't help but notice that I wasn't the only one with eyes for Miria."

Tabitha heard the unspoken warning underlying Galatea's words but was temporarily distracted at the discovery of the red haired woman's name.

"Do be careful," Galatea murmured, her caution enticing Tabitha to turn around only for her to whip back again and continue with rule number 8 upon seeing the agent's state of undress.

"I…I have no intention…no intention of stealing your wife." She wished her voice hadn't trembled during her confession.

A laugh greeted her words making Tabitha bite her lip fearing what the agent was about to say.

"I meant for _you_ to be careful of Miria. She's very fond of knives."

"Knives?" Tabitha whispered dreading what else the agent would reveal.

"She carries at least three on her person at all the times…" Galatea informed her casually, enjoying the effect her words were having upon Tabitha.

She paused to leisurely pick up her new shirt, taking pleasure in keeping the hotel staff member in suspense over what she would say next.

"Hides them in the most interesting places too as I've discovered during our time together."

"Oh…" Tabitha's reply was cut short as the both of them had been so caught up in their conversation that the presence of imminent danger had escaped them.

The door flew open hitting Tabitha square in the face as the back-up security team charged into the room. Galatea cursed as she had only just started dressing and seeing no other option, tossed her shirt into the face of the nearest guard as she moved to catch Tabitha who was groggily staggered backwards. The girl firmly in her arms, Galatea yanked them both out of the way of the incoming fist of the second guard only to accidently send Tabitha crashing into third.

As Tabitha fell to the floor along with her opponent, Galatea grabbed the last guard's arm wrenching it up and away from his gun. Ducking under his arm, she struck him in the ribcage. As his knees buckled she flipped him over her shoulder to send him into the second guard who had drawn his gun aiming it at the helpless Tabitha.

She turned just in time to dodge a nasty right hook from the first guard who with a growl had ripped the shirt from his face. Recovering his balance he attacked Galatea throwing the garment back at her. Catching the shirt, Galatea flicked it out striking him in the face and as he stumbled backwards, she looped the sleeves around his neck putting him into a stranglehold.

Struggling to free himself, the guard backed Galatea onto the food trolley which then shot out into the corridor taking the two struggling opponents with it. As it bashed into the door of the room across the hall, Galatea was quickly back on her feet and with the help of her boot she pushed him headfirst into the wall. As his body fell to the floor she released the shirt from around his neck. A distasteful look crossed her face as she held up the crinkled and stained shirt. There was no way she wearing that.

The nearby door of the fire stairs began to open. Galatea grabbed the trolley and as one of Orsay's security team stood revealed in the open door way, a sight she was beginning to weary of, she kicked the trolley into his stomach which sent him backwards doubled over in pain down the stairs he had just climbed. A domino effect followed and the agent winced at the successive six crashes that followed as the trolley made its way down to the ground floor.

Quickly tossing away the soiled shirt, Galatea returned to the room just in time. The guard who had collided with Tabitha was about to land a vicious blow to the head of the unsuspecting hotel staff member. Throwing herself into a forward roll to reach Tabitha in time, Galatea grabbed her legs dragging her out of the way of danger while ignoring the carpet burn her rescue was inflicting and the staff member's consequent indignant huff.

Letting go her legs, none too graciously, Galatea moved on to engage her next opponent. She intercepted a fist and moved in to strike her first blow only to pull away at the last moment as she got a closer look at her opponent.

In the fall with Tabitha the sunglasses had been lost and the tightly bound hair coming loose was now wildly framing the face of Galatea's very beautiful and very female opponent.

"It's about time Orsay sent his best," Galatea murmured appreciatively.

Further flirting was cut short as the guard backhanded the temporarily distracted agent and sent her reeling straight into Tabitha who had struggled to her feet. Oh, well she wasn't the first girl to react that way Galatea reflected as the two crashed to the floor. She now found herself only inches from Tabitha's face, and the loose strands of her hair as the hotel staff member lay on top of her, brushed against Galatea's face.

"You're lighter than you look," Galatea informed her. "Actually you're not that bad looking either, up close."

Tabitha's face heated at the words and as she struggled to reply she froze in shock as she noticed where Galatea's hands had caught her. The agent followed her gaze, her expression turning to one of awakened interest upon noticing just where her hands had come to a stop. During the fall, Tabitha's mini skirt had hiked up and Galatea's hands were just shy of examining her frilly briefs. Galatea let out a hum of approval at the colour.

"Standard issue or personal preference?" she couldn't help asking.

Tabitha's mortified reply was cut off as her face took on several new shades of red as the agent's hand began to wander.

"What are you doing?" She squeaked.

Her words were met with a smirk and an all too innocent tone.

"Checking out the extent of your carpet burn."

Tabitha swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her thoughts were in turmoil over her latest encounter with this woman. Maybe she had misjudged the blonde. Her mind was instantly purged of such a thought as Galatea shoved her to the side and out of the way of her incoming opponent. The thump and incensed wail went unnoticed by the agent as she flipped to her feet to effortlessly intercept the fist of the female guard. She used her arm hold to pull her opponent closer.

"This is a welcome change," Galatea told her. "Although I usually prefer to get your name before we indulge in further games."

"I..." The woman seemed to be struggling with her words as she looked shyly up at Galatea. "K...Katea."

"Hello, Katea," Galatea smiled charmingly. "Next question…"

With little show of interest, she blocked Katea's other first which came punching in her direction and moving to further invade her personal space, she thoughtfully loosened her opponent's tie.

"Is Orsay in his suite?"

"I'll never tell you Ghost. You'll never get out of here alive. Orsay has many guards…" Katea reached for her hidden knife.

"Are they as charming as you?"

"What the Hell does it matter. You're going to die right here in this room," she snarled moving to strike only for the agent to causally and singlehandedly grab the offending arm and twist it behind her back forcing the knife from her grip.

Now pressed firmly up against the agent, Katea swallowed as Galatea whispered into her ear.

"I'd rather do something else in this room." The suggestiveness of her tone sent Katea's knees weak.

In all her training they had never prepared her for an opponent such as this one. Galatea relaxed her vicelike grip but Katea, finding the strength to fight on, swung the agent around and slammed her into the bathroom door.

* * *

><p>Anastasia glanced nervously at the mirror as she straightened out her black mini skirt. Upon Miria's entering the bathroom, the two had dressed quietly with only a brief nod of acknowledgement from the assassin. And her silence was killing the receptionist. She would have preferred to have the red haired woman shouted at her for taking advantage of her partner.<p>

"Umm…" Anastasia knew she had to apologise but still the woman scared her.

Miria looked at her quizzically before turning her attention to the mirror as she tried once again to do her infernal tie. She growled in frustration as she continued to get confused over her hand's attempts at making the loop. A small laugh greeted her attempts. The receptionist stepped forward and taking Miria's tie in her hands her fingers expertly looped the tie.

"Thanks," Miria muttered looking at the receptionist who refused to meet her eyes.

"Umm…" It was the assassin's turn to look uncomfortable. "Look, about you and Ga…"

She was cut off by a small shake of the head as Anastasia met her gaze.

"I'm sorry for sleeping with your wife." The words tumbled forth and Anastasia quickly backed away.

"Oh…" Miria blinked at her as she straightening her tie nervously. "Well, you don't have to be…she's not my wife."

"Oh, no," Anastasia groaned her hand running across her forehead as she repeated the words before sinking to the floor.

Miria was by her side in an instant, concern crossing her features and deepening as Anastasia leaned her head back on the wall and produced an alarmingly heavy thud for such an action.

"I've…I've…," Anastasia fought to find the words oblivious to Miria's concern.

"I've broken up your marriage," she wailed unaware of the affect her words had upon the assassin.

"Tabby was right to warn me!" the receptionist continued. "But it's not your wife's fault, believe me!"

Anastasia grabbed Miria's arm her eyes pleading with her as she spoke, her words coming out in a jumble.

"You had a fight…she was lonely…I took advantage…or did she? Please…please forgive us."

As the receptionist broke down, Miria awkwardly patted her upon the arm. Curse Galatea for getting her into this situation.

"Its fine," the assassin reassured her. "We weren't married anyway," she quickly added before Anastasia could reply.

"We're not a couple…we never were…it was just a cover for our jobs."

Understanding began to dawn in Anastasia's eyes only to be overtaken by fright and she scrambled away from Miria pointing a finger at the assassin.

"So you weren't lying! Seriously are you people really spies?"

Her question brought a weary smile to Miria's face. She was about to answer when a thud was heard upon the other side of the bathroom door.

"Stay here," Miria told her as she sprinted forward.

* * *

><p>"Well that was a quick change," Galatea thought as she was drawn into a kiss.<p>

Although, knowing the girl's previously murderous intentions, this was probably a ruse. A most enjoyable ruse and Galatea had no qualms about indulging as she needed a new shirt. Her hands quickly slipped off Katea's jacket. Unknowingly, she threw it over poor Tabitha who let out a small exclamation as the article, falling over her head spoiled her view of Galatea smoothly removing Katea's shirt. The guard, closely observing Galatea's pre-occupation with the removal of her clothing, deftly closed her fingers around her hidden gun and in one swift movement she removed it from her belt and prepared to shoot the agent in the stomach as they parted.

"You really are too predictable," Galatea told her ruefully as she released the magazine clip from Katea's gun and allowed it to fall uselessly at her feet.

Pushing her gently away, Galatea stepped from the door just as it sprang open. Miria's fist collided with Katea's face and knocked the startled woman unconscious. The Phantom's brow rose in question as she took in the state of the room and the additional bodies. Galatea avoided her gaze as she slipped on her new shirt.

"Perfect fit," she murmured approvingly as she turned to face Miria. "And you're just in time to do up the buttons."

Her words earned her a fist to the face.


	8. Chapter 8

Bar Mucha

* * *

><p>AN. Yeah, late again...This chapter is also insanely long so another apology for that. I swear the next chapter will be shorter!

Anonymous Viewer Z: Thanks for your review. Ophelia's temporary demise seemed to have fooled a lot of people, but she's one tough claymore! =). She'll be rampaging around for the remainder of the fic as I have plenty of plans for her as Miria's nemesis. I'm happy that the Cynthia/Yuma interactions are still enjoyable as they were included on a whim and they just grew on me so suddenly. Yes, yet more excitement in the love life of Galatea. I agree on Katea, she's so underused =(. On the matter of Jean, she has made her Bar Mucha appearance! She will meet Clare, who seems to be taking forever to make her own appearance, damn slow walker! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Thanks to everybody for reviewing or reading or both. Thanks so much. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own the series or characters nor do I know the inner workings of vending machines.

* * *

><p>It was turning out to be a typical night, filled with endless paperwork, the scratching of pens and the odd thump of a fist meeting the cool surface of a vending machine. Detective Jean bit back a sigh, her finger moving to once again press the button for the lemon iced tea. Several minutes passed and still no tea. Adjusting her black fedora, Jean tried again, the analytical part of her mind reminding her that sometimes good things came to those who waited...…and waited. The more rational part of her brain also reminded her that vending machines were just like the scum she dealt with on a daily basis, they just needed some nudging in the right direction.<p>

The machine shook under the weight of Jean's next strike, its contents rattling, but still it kept its mouth shut refusing to yield just one lemon iced tea. And damn it, she'd paid for it with her hard earned wages and how else was she going to tackle that massive mountain of paper work that took up her entire desk? Gazing out from under her fedora, Jean knelt in front of the hatch which delivered the drinks, her keen eyes scanning the task before her. It would require a lot of flexibility on her part in order to come away with victory but Jean wasn't the best twister player in the precinct for nothing. Twenty one wins ought to count for something in this world and the hardened detective quite liked her iced tea.

Detective Jean went about her task with her face masked into an expression of absolute concentration reminiscent of the look she used when faced with a crime scene. Pushing back the delivery hatch, she snaked her hand inside and twisted upwards towards the prize. Her cheek met the surface of the vending machine. Keeping an eye on her hand through the glass window display, Jean pushed further until the entire length of her arm was within the chute. Unfortunately the lemon iced teas were third from the bottom shelf which made them extremely difficult to reach. The sound of footsteps approaching told her time was running out. She listened to the soft tread as it halted just short of her position. Ah, it seemed as if she had luck on her side after all as she recognised who it was even before they spoke.

"Dispatch just in. I'm heading out."

As Jean's partner spoke she chose to ignore the scene in front of her in favour of slipping on her duster coat. She paused to flick the strands of straight, layered blonde hair out from under her collar.

"Not now, Eva." Jean's voice was slightly muffled as she pressed her cheek further into the surface of the machine, the movement allowing her fingers to brush against the first bottle of iced tea. Jean held back her inner celebrations as this was the hard part but she'd be damned before she lost to a hulking piece of metal.

"Patron of Hotel Pieta phoned in about a fight taking place at their Teppanyaki restaurant," Eva informed her as she impassively watched her partner's struggle.

A thud greeted her words as the bottle Jean had been trying to gently ease from its rack thudded back into place right on top of her fingers.

"That's Staff territory," Jean replied extracting her fingers from beneath the bottle.

"I might have missed the part where the boss told us to leave it alone, but there's no harm in looking…" Eva told her trailing off innocently to check her watch.

"I mean my shift finishes in five and from what I've heard, the food at these Teppanyaki places ain't bad."

Jean contemplated the offer. Unlike her partner, she'd been assigned to the midnight shift, the one every detective dreaded, when the dirtbags of society left their niches to mingle with the world and make her shift a damned nightmare. Hell, it hadn't even started yet and already she was facing an uphill battle as the only thing that brought her solace had decided to play hard to get. Maybe they could also swing by the local store to replenish her supply of the precious commodity known as lemon iced tea. Jean quickly glanced at her desk at the far end of the crowded workspace that functioned as an office. Nah, the paperwork could wait.

Giving up, Jean reached up and pressed the button for her refund but it seemed as if the machine was intent on keeping the spoils of their battle and refused to yield the cash. Pressing the refund button in reckless abandon was a sure indication that vending machines could now be added to the long list of things that peeved Detective Jean.

"Having trouble?" It may have been the senior detective's imagination or really just hurt pride that made her detect a slight hint of amusement in Eva's tone.

"Nothing I can't handle," Jean assured her. She ceased demolishing the refund button in favour of removing her car keys from her pocket. She tossed them to her partner who deftly caught them.

"I thought we could take…"

"I ain't riding in your sidecar." Jean shut down Eva's suggestion before she could finish her sentence. "Messes my fedora," she added.

"We could always just cuddle on the Suzuki," Eva offered again, swelling pride unmistakeable in her voice as she spoke about her prized black Suzuki GS500 motorbike.

"Not with the way you drive. I'd be flying off the back before we made it out of the car park."

Jean cut off further arguments as she punched the machine one last time hoping her action could shake her money free. There was no way she was leaving without it. Behind her Eva stared moodily, quite miffed at the prospect that she would be parted from her beloved bike.

"Fine. Then let's go in the Golf," she grumbled.

"I like the Golf," Jean offered in defence of her decision.

"Yeah, I remember." Eva answered sulkily, waving her hand dismissively. "_She_ always liked Golfs."

"There's a lot of good memories associated with that car," Jean protested whipping around and continuing to defend the Golf's honour.

The accompanying crack of her arm that she had forgotten was still within the vending machine echoed throughout the quiet precinct.

"You know how many arrests I owe to that little Golf?" Jean ignored the throbbing pain determined to get her point across.

"Nope. Enlighten me." Seeing Jean's defiance and how she was taking great efforts not to mention her discomfort, Eva had followed her lead.

"Ah," Jean paused dramatically only to ruin the effect with her answer. "I forget."

Eva let out a laugh shaking her head in amusement at her partner before joining her at the vending machine.

"I've been meaning to ask you but what the hell are you doing?"

"Damned scrap metal won't give me a drink." The admission was delivered quietly, the defeat evident in Jean's voice.

Oh, now it all made sense. Eva crouched down to get a view of the serial number on the back of the machine. Ah yes, it was from the old H500 series. She straightened up as Jean gave her a puzzled look.

"You know you're not making this easy for me," Eva joked lining her foot up directly with the base of the machine before giving it a good kick.

"Sounds like I'm going to have a tough time competing with the Golf as to who makes a better partner."

Her kick sent the contents rattling again. Eva casually leaned on the lemon iced tea button and with a groan the first bottle in line was released. It narrowly missed Jean's arm as it hit the chute.

"Damn. You're not bad," Jean praised. "I never had any luck with these machines. They were always Elizabeth's territory."

With the mention of Jean's ex-partner's name, the mood turned sombre. Eva nervously played with her partner's car keys regretting the turn in the conversation. Elizabeth had been a rising star and considering the reputation for heroics her partnership with Jean had won for the precinct, Eva grudgingly acknowledged the fact that as the new partner, she had a lot to live up to. With the realisation that understandably Jean still missed her old partner it all just increased the difficulty for her of living up to the legend.

"Elizabeth was always there. Whether it was helping me battle this," she gave the machine surface a small tap "or saving me from…from…I never got to pay her back."

"Is that why you still go after Staff despite the precinct being in their pocket?"

Jean tensed as Eva guessed the true reason for her vendetta. It had cost her a lot of promotions but what good were they if the extra pay was funded by Staff. The precinct didn't even bother hiding the identity of which benefactor was lining their pockets and as a result good people had died. People like Elizabeth, chasing justice and now long buried within the dung heap of their profession with the only recognition being the use of your name as a warning to deter upcoming idealists. It was Staff who had turned the game personal.

"I go after them because it's the right thing to do," Jean chose to answer.

Eva didn't need to know the fine details. This wasn't her fight and sensing the conviction in her partner's words, she fell silent as she reached reassuringly for the handgun in her belt. Staff was a nasty business. Her survival instinct, sharpened through years of detective work had always cautioned her against becoming involved in anything to do with that organisation. She checked her watch. It had just turned eight, signalling the end of her shift. Eva took a deep breath to calm her growing excitement. Herself, her trusty handgun, Jean and a Golf against a hotel full of Staff members. She silently hoped for all the luck fortune could spare because if they botched this up, she was already dreading the paperwork that would follow.

Pushing away from the machine, Eva strode towards the lift to the car park, twirling Jean's keys in her hands. She expected her partner to follow quickly behind her, only Jean hadn't followed. Concerned, Eva turned back to see her partner still crouched at the vending machine looking as sombre as she had the day Elizabeth died.

"The fighting won't wait until we get there," she called back only to receive no response.

Could such a simple mention of the past reduce the great detective to a brooding mess staring forlornly at the machine in front of her? Hell, she hadn't even moved to claim her prize of iced tea. Eva returned to her partner's side.

"Jean." She touched her shoulder comfortingly.

"Eva…"

The mention of her name spoken so softly caused Eva to gulp. She wasn't up to the challenge of keeping an emotionally unstable partner together.

"Eva…I need your help," Jean spoke again. She quickly looked down to avoid Eva's gaze until looking up and imploring her with a sheer look of desperation in her eyes, a look which made Eva catch her breath, she confided.

"I need your help, Eva. I think my hand's stuck in the machine."

* * *

><p>Somewhere along the line they had been compromised. Cynthia tightened her grip around Yuma's hand as she dashed out of the Teppanyaki restaurant determined to put as much distance between themselves and the carnage as she could. She needed to get to the honeymoon suite fast to alert Galatea and Miria. She would also need to come up with a plan that would enable them all to get the hell out of there. And they were cut off from headquarters. Cynthia gritted her teeth at the thought. She never liked it when the odds were stacked against her. And then there was Yuma who was struggling to keep up with her hurried pace as they weaved in and out of the chaos of people who had gathered outside as word of the fight spread amongst the hotel guests.<p>

Pushing past the last wave of people, they eventually stumbled into the relatively deserted courtyard and left behind the panic which was gripping the entire dinning court. Cynthia glanced around quickly to get her bearings before sprinting off in the direction of the accommodation building. A growing resistance to her progress brought the medic to a slow jog as she turned concerned towards Yuma. The chef eased her hand from Cynthia's grasp. She had stopped, completely out of breath.

"…Wait…too fast…" Yuma looked up weakly, her eyes widening as Cynthia grabbed her hand and began to tug her forward again.

Ignoring the chef's ongoing protests they continued their run towards the casino. Cynthia could already see the swimming pool located just in front of the arch which signalled the entrance to the reception area.

"Just a little further," she promised. She screeched to a halt with Yuma stumbling into her and grabbing her jacket to stop herself from taking an embarrassing tumble.

Despite the situation, Yuma's thoughts instantly veered towards the fact that she was now firmly pressed up against Cynthia's back close enough to take in the faint odour of antiseptic that clung to the medic's jacket. Still it was rather nice she thought as she settled in to enjoy this brief moment of respite. Further enjoyment was halted as she felt her companion tense up. Yuma reluctantly withdrew her face and nervously peeped over Cynthia's shoulder. A lone figure sitting perched upon the top steps leading into the casino was smiling innocently down at the two of them. She even offered a small wave. Her lips moved and despite the distance the medic could read the words that sent a cold dread through her body as her mind screamed at her to run as fast as she could.

"Found you," the woman cooed, her voice carrying across the distance as she began to rise to her feet.

Cynthia was only spared a second to react. She shoved the startled Yuma back in the direction they had just come from and aimed the gun she still grasped within her hand at the woman descending the steps.

"Run Yuma!" she shouted as the woman in front of them moved with a speed few could ever hope to achieve.

Confused, Yuma turned back only to let out a small gasp as the woman was now in front of Cynthia and the look within her eyes was enough to send violent shivers through the chef. Slapped rather carelessly over the middle of her forehead was a bandaid which under normal circumstance would have looked funny only this time in served to highlight the maniacal gleam in the eyes of one of Staff's deadliest assassins, Rippling Ophelia.

Cynthia cursed. She had been unable to get a bead on her opponent. Instead she chose to swing out with the handgun. Ophelia easily sidestepped the action, her eyes widening in approval as the medic pivoted to strike out again with her weapon. Cynthia continued her attack drawing the battle away from the still stunned Yuma. She had to protect her. She owed the kid. But it seemed as if good intentions were clearly not to be rewarded and as she levelled the barrel intent on taking her shot, she was caught up in Ophelia's vice-like grip. Cynthia barely had time to react before her opponent pulled her close leaving their faces inches apart.

"You know it's the height of rudeness bringing a gun to a fistfight," Ophelia berated her as she kneed Cynthia in the stomach. The medic's legs gave way, her opponent's grip the only thing that stopped her from sinking to the floor.

"You seem…" Ophelia paused to sniff Cynthia's neck. "Yes, I can smell your desperation. Do I scare you?" Ophelia looked hurt as she voiced the suggestion.

"Surely my presence isn't the cause of your failing to live up to your reputation?" she continued looking genuinely thoughtful as she scanned the courtyard. Her lips formed a cruel smile as her eyes settled upon Yuma.

"Ah." Ophelia's tone had turned to one of sympathy. "Civilians…they always spoil the fun, but I'll let you in on a little secret."

"Nobody spoils my fun," she hissed.

To her credit the Ghost didn't flinch as Ophelia peeled her fingers away from the trigger crushing each of them in turn, the bodyguard unable to contain her delight at Cynthia's defiance. Gun now in her hand and with a sadistic glee, Ophelia smashed the weapon into the side of Cynthia's head sending her reeling. She gave the medic one more bash relishing the sickening thud the weapon made against her face before stepping back to admire her work. She would come back to this one. Her eyes narrowed in on Yuma as she stalked towards her.

"Yuma run!" Cynthia shouted helplessly.

Although the words registered in Yuma's ears she found her legs unable to obey, their shaking betraying her fear as she sank to the ground, her lip trembling as Ophelia's gaze froze her in place.

"Sorry, for the belated greeting," Ophelia apologised crouching in front of her, a wicked smile making its way across her face.

"I underestimated how annoying you would prove to be."

Her hand reached out to pat the chef's shoulder comfortingly.

"I think we'll start with a shoulder, shall we?"

She didn't wait for a reply but proceeded to viciously attack Yuma's shoulder, her head bobbing in time to her victim's screams.

"Miss detective," Yuma whimpered.

Ophelia hummed approvingly at her reaction giving a gentle pat to Yuma's face streaked with tears.

"Well done. I hope that's not all I have to do to get her attention," Ophelia gleefully informed her placing the barrel of the gun against Yuma's knee.

"For your sake I hope this isn't loaded," Ophelia muttered. "Still I wonder…"

Yuma shook uncontrollably her frightened eyes following the gun as it left her knee and travelled up to rest against her stomach.

"But if I shoot you here will that provoke the Ghost more?" Ophelia drew back a frown upon her face, her expression slightly annoyed as she weighed the alternatives.

"Damn there are so many good places to shoot you!"

She was going to die, the thought ran through Yuma's head. She couldn't believe it. An hour ago she had been happily flipping eggs, only worried about making a fool of herself in front of Cynthia. Suddenly Cynthia was in front of her hauling Ophelia away and landing a punch squarely in the centre of the bodyguard's face. The gun fell from Ophelia's grip as Yuma watched them grapple. The medic was kicked backwards and as Ophelia loomed over her, the chef, possessed purely by adrenaline and spurred by a desire to protect Cynthia, leapt upon the bodyguard. Her actions went unnoticed by Ophelia who attempted to swat her nonchalantly aside as the chef clung stubbornly to her back. With a sigh, Ophelia flipped Yuma over her shoulder and sent her splashing into the nearby pool. Yuma resurfaced spluttering, her chef hat miraculously still clinging to her head.

A low cackle escaping from Ophelia at the sight of Yuma's drowned state suddenly died upon her lips as Cynthia, the fallen gun within her hand, fired. The bullet slammed into Ophelia's chest and sent her into the pool. Dropping the gun, Cynthia ran to the edge of the pool shouting Yuma's name. The chef resurfaced again having dived out of the way of the huge splash Ophelia's body made as it crashed into the water. Cynthia couldn't help but smile at the sight of the drenched chef.

"You okay?" she asked offering Yuma her hand.

The chef grasped her hand as Cynthia prepared to pull her from the water. The medic froze at the sight behind Yuma. Dripping wet, but still very much alive, Ophelia had resurfaced and was shaking the clinging droplets from her hair.

"I really wish you people would stop doing that," she chided as she waded past Yuma to pull herself from the water.

She shook her head to rid the last of the droplets. Then she struck, kicking Cynthia in the face and sending her tumbling to join Yuma in the pool. Taking a seat by the edge, Ophelia searched the water until grabbing a fist full of Cynthia's hair, she dragged her up above the surface.

Thoroughly annoyed and a little disappointed, Ophelia dunked her opponent out of spite. She then effortlessly dragged a disbelieving Cynthia towards her and out of the pool. Ducking the water that Cynthia spat at her with a disapproving expression, sudden anger overtook her features as she repeated herself.

"Stop doing that because it really pisses me off!" She punctuated the words with a head butt sending the medic's vision spiralling into black.

* * *

><p>With a groan, Katea's eyes flickered open. She snapped them shut as a throbbing pain in her head greeted her. She was vaguely aware of a growing lump upon her forehead and a crescendo of pain that left her feeling as if she had smacked full sprint into a brick wall. Her hazy mind fought to update her as she pieced together the events leading up to her total blackout. There had been a fight and she had been horribly outmatched. She had however, managed to slam her opponent into the bathroom door. Apart from this, further recollections were a bit disjointed.<p>

Katea shifted on her back feeling the slightly rough surface of the carpet. Her mind registered the sensation. What the hell was she doing on the floor? Now fully awake, she jolted upwards. Fighting a wave of nausea, she took in her surroundings becoming aware for the first time of the tense atmosphere that gripped the room. Two hotel staff members both winced in sympathy but seemed quite content to keep their distance from the other two occupants of the room. Unfortunately these two were standing over Katea and were generating the almost explosive aura that the security guard had ever felt. Katea looked between the two of them her mind slowly informing her of their identities. Oh, damn it. Another wave of nausea hit her but that was the least of her problems.

Raising a hand to her injured face Galatea silently reflected that the Phantom really had a vendetta against her right cheek. First a slap and then a punch. Really, had Miria always been this aggressive?

"What the hell, Miria?" Galatea growled.

She cradled her cheek looking chagrined that Miria had summoned the nerve to strike her square in the middle of her best feature. Her face wasn't a punching bag, damn it. The assassin showing no trace of remorse stared back. Galatea missed seeing the brief flash of concern in Miria's eyes as she observed the now swelling bruise adorning agent God Eye's face. Maybe she shouldn't have put all the force of her weight behind the blow. Maybe she should have shown some restraint. Miria's face darkened at the word. Restraint was clearly something they both lacked.

Still it seemed that every time she turned her back, Galatea took advantage of some poor woman and Miria was frankly annoyed at having to constantly deal with the agent's numerous conquests every six minutes. How many were there? And they were in various states of undress too. This really eliminated the little doubt that remained as to the activities going on behind her back, activities that were definitely not on the mission agenda.

"A simple no would have sufficed," Galatea grumbled. "If you prefer to unbutton rather than button then just bloody well say so."

Completely ignored, Katea looked between the arguing pair as something tried to click in the back of her mind. It was a rather stupid argument in her opinion over a shirt that looked rather familiar. Suddenly it clicked. Katea glanced down to find herself clad only in her bra, her shirt nowhere to be seen. The haze around her recollection of the final part of the battle lifted. Her mouth moving too fast for her thought processes to catch up, Katea spoke in disbelief.

"You stole my shirt!"

Her outburst broke the stalemate between Miria and Galatea who glaring in the direction of the disturbance forced Katea to shrink under their combined murderous looks. Visibly relaxing, Miria removed her jacket and with a well schooled impassive expression she threw it to the security guard who graciously slipped the garment on all the while fixing her frightened eyes upon Galatea. Throwing Katea a disinterested look, agent God Eye retreated to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her in order to assess the damage to her face in private.

* * *

><p>Running a hand through her spiky hair, Miria took stock of the situation. After telling Tabitha and Anastasia to keep a lookout for more of Orsay's men she turned to interrogate Katea.<p>

"How many guards are there in Orsay's room?" the Phantom asked settling cross legged in front of Katea.

A smile made its way to Katea's face at the sight of the assassin's relaxed pose. There was no way she was going to allow the Phantom to lure her into a false sense of security.

"I'm not answering any of your questions," she smugly told her. "Interrogate all you want, I'm not saying anything."

"Loyalty to Staff ? That's a rare quality these days," Miria mused.

Katea let out a hollow laugh.

"Changing to flattery already, Phantom?"

"No, just the truth," Miria answered, her gaze still boring into Katea frightened eyes.

"Truth?" Katea snarled. "The truth is you're not getting out of here alive Phantom and no amount of interrogation is going to stop that."

"You refuse to speak to me?" Miria clarified letting out a small sigh at Katea's smug nod in agreement.

The Phantom rose to her feet. This surprised Katea who had imagined, if the legends about the woman in front of her were true that she would be much more persistent in her line of questioning. Katea tensed. Perhaps she was off to get some of those toys that made talking so much easier. She couldn't stop the shiver that gripped her. She'd seen some of the interrogation toys that Staff assassins carried around. Her resolve steeled as Miria stopped in front of the bathroom door her hand inches from the handle. She seemed to pause before turning to face Katea once again.

"Are you sure you won't talk to me?" she asked. "Because I'm sure _she _would love to interrogate you."

The emphasis on the word _she_ sent another cold shiver down her spine. She was well aware of who was on the other side of the door. Memories of the quickest hands she had ever encountered rushed back along with memories of her every word, so teasingly suggestive. But most of all those unexpectedly soft lips that really had no business to be anywhere near hers. Perhaps she was prepared to gladly make an exception but that really wasn't the point. The Ghost scared the hell out of her and she dreaded what any interrogation between them would reveal. Red faced, Katea gave Miria a pleading look before throwing herself into a grovel as the Phantom's hand reached towards the door handle. She was inches from opening the door and throwing her to that evil woman.

"Please don't!" Katea had never pleaded before in her entire life but then she'd never ever encountered anyone remotely like the Ghost either.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," she offered by way of compromise and she was visibly relieved when the Phantom stepped away from the door.

* * *

><p>Quickly adjusting the gag to Katea's mouth and once more inspecting the bed sheets restraining Katea's arms and legs, Miria stepped back and closed the door of the built in wardrobe. She briefly paused at the bathroom door before entering to be confronted by a very sulky agent God Eye. Thankfully, while she had interrogated Katea, Galatea had buttoned up her shirt and was currently in the final stages of looping her tie. Ignoring the Phantom's entrance, the agent slipped on the security jacket leaving Miria to stand uncomfortably by the door.<p>

"The plan won't work," Miria informed her not willing to allow the silence between them to continue. "Orsay knows the identity of each member of his security detail."

By way of reply she received a non-committal hum as Galatea's eyes remained fixed upon the mirror. They briefly flickered to take in Miria's movement as the assassin took a step forward focusing on the agent's reflection. The blow had bruised the skin giving her a swollen black eye. It was enough to make Miria feel incredibly guilty.

"Are you sure the guard isn't bluffing?" Galatea at last reasoned.

"I don't think we should chance it. Perhaps we could ask Anastasia and Tabitha to get us access to the room…"

"Or I could go in alone while you meet up with Cynthia and plan an escape route," Galatea offered. The corners of her lips began to form her trademark smirk as she turned to face Miria.

"That's dangerous," Miria objected.

"No more dangerous than getting those two involved more than they already are," Galatea countered. Her hand reached up to gently thread through some of the spikier strands of the assassin's hair.

"With this rather noticeable hair you'll never get past security. Besides, how did you plan on getting us into the room?"

"Laundry baskets," Miria mumbled, thankful that the agent didn't laugh at the suggestion.

"As much as I'd love to snuggle with you, Miria…" The assassin tensed at the familiar teasing tone. "I don't think you could keep your fists to yourself."

"It's not my fault my fists are attracted to your face." Miria's tone had turned defensive.

"Your fists aren't the only part of you attracted to me." Galatea murmured as she lowered her eyes to take in the assassin's lips.

It took a couple of moments for Miria to come to the realisation that during the course of their conversation the agent had completely reversed their positions. Miria now stood trapped between the sink and God Eye whose flirtatious nature had returned in full force. The tension Miria felt since first entering the room had now turned into a feeling of expectation as Galatea moved forward to claim a kiss only to teasingly deny her choosing instead to whisper in her ear, the smirk back upon her face.

"Still on second thoughts I don't fancy another black eye."

Slowly pulling away from Miria, Galatea removed the sunglasses from the assassin's jacket pocket and slipped them on to hide her black eye. Without another word she left. The door closed behind her with a snap leaving the assassin to stare at the wooden surface, the tension she had felt vanishing with the agent's departure.

* * *

><p>Familiar sights often lifted one's spirits. Such sentiments forced receptionist Anastasia to reluctantly admit that she had missed her desk. Seated once more amongst the piles of paper with her ever present trusty computer in front of her blinking back the logo of the hotel she took a moment to savour the feeling of returning to her old routine. Scanning the empty corridor, Anastasia none too discreetly began to access the records of the hotel's guests. On her screen she scrolled down the current valet parking list to find their getaway car. Oh, she quite liked the idea of that silver mini. Its logo akin to wings struck her fancy, but then it was too cramped so she discarded that option.<p>

A hand upon her shoulder startled the receptionist. She let out a small shriek before whipping around, her nerves already on edge and the _reception closed_ sign firmly within her grip. Upon recognising the woman in front of her, she dropped the sign before returning to her work as Tabitha leant over her shoulder to read the list.

"Don't scare me. I thought you were security," Anastasia admonished. "Where's Miria?"

"Mi…she's arguing," Tabitha replied inwardly cursing herself for her inability to say the red haired woman's name.

A silence descended broken only by the intermittent taps upon the keyboard.

"Do you think we should trust them?" Tabitha meekly voiced the question that had been running through both their minds.

"Those security were prepared to kill them," Anastasia defended. "He held you hostage Tabby. Innocent people don't do that…at least I don't think they do."

She trailed off unsure. Since meeting the spies, if they really were who they claimed to be, the receptionist found that she didn't know what to believe anymore. After all, they had just informed her that the person she worked for was involved in a lot of nasty business.

"You trust _her _don't you?"

Anastasia knew who Tabitha was referring to. It was a loaded question. A small sigh escaped her lips as she realised that Tabby was never going to let that go.

"_She _saved your life didn't _she_?" the receptionist chose to answer.

Tabitha grumbled an affirmative, not happy to be reminded.

"Still _her_ attitude needs a major readjustment," Tabitha continued her grumbling. "I mean with the way _she_ treats Miria..."

Tabitha paused as she leaned forward to check out the make of the car that Anastasia had chosen. She missed observing her friend's amused smile.

"I think this one has enough room," Tabitha murmured. "I'll go tell Miria."

"On a first name basis are we?" Anastasia teased her friend which caused her to blush upon realising that she had just causally said Miria's name twice.

"I…well…What about you and Miss Rabona?" Tabitha weakly defended.

"Don't change the subject Tabby," Anastasia warned.

Surrendering, Tabitha sunk into a crouching position with her chin resting upon the desk as she moodily stared up at her friend.

"I…think she's really beautiful, kind of...magnetic." As the list continued to scroll down the page, Tabitha's smile grew before vanishing. "I mean she deserves a partner who would treat her better than that…woman."

A knowing smile greeted her words.

"You know, Miria said there's nothing between them," Anastasia informed her causally.

Tabitha's head jerked up but further conversation was cut off as the very woman they had been discussing approached the desk, her keen eyes scanning every inch of the corridor. Her gaze curiously took in the two hotel staff members as she leaned over to get a look at the monitor.

"Can you get the keys?" Miria asked sparing an inquiring look at Tabitha who was discreetly smoothing her uniform.

"I think so," Anastasia answered as the sound of footsteps reached them.

The trio froze. The footsteps squished against the carpet as if the owner had spent an hour or so in a downpour of rain. The tread was heavy and it was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of something being dragged along the floor. Better safe than sorry, Miria reasoned as she grabbed Tabitha and pulled her into the nearest room out of the sight of prying eyes. Anastasia cleared her screen before snatching up a pen and paper in an effort to resume her duties as receptionist.

* * *

><p>Leaving the door slightly ajar had allowed the assassin a restricted view of the reception area but nothing beyond as she balanced uncomfortably on an upturned bucket within what had turned out to be a storage closet. A shocked Tabitha was seated awkwardly upon her lap due to space restrictions. One of Miria's hands steadied the hotel staff member, the other prevented a mop from clattering to the floor and giving away their position. Tabitha's arms had been firmly thrown around Miria's neck bringing them uncomfortably close. So close that Miria could feel the heat from Tabitha's now red cheeks. A smell of disinfectant permeated the room as with baited breath they waited for the <em>all clear<em> from Anastasia. To end the awkwardness it couldn't come soon enough.

The sound of footsteps retreated towards the rooms and Miria let out a sigh before moving to gently ease Tabitha from her lap. The staff member continued to press firmly up against her. The assassin blinked. Had nerves gotten to her again? Miria couldn't tell if it was the intimacy of their position, some momentary whim or sheer nerves that made Tabitha cautiously press her lips against hers. And it was a gentle touch so unlike Galatea's kisses. Miria found she couldn't respond, for it was so…different. Before she could analyse her thoughts in greater detail, Tabitha pulled away having sensed Anastasia's approaching footsteps. And in her eyes Miria saw an emotion she wasn't used to dealing with, an emotion that had briefly flickered through those now familiar silver eyes. Then the door to the closet was wrenched open. Anastasia was standing before them with terror in her eyes.

"They've got Yuma."

* * *

><p>Four members of Orsay's squad kept their guns trained on Galatea as she entered the suite's reception room. The guard who opened the door for her gave the boss a quick nod signalling she was okay. Orsay rose from his chair waving away the protests of his security as he made his way towards the disguised agent.<p>

"Katea," Orsay drawled. "It seems you had a run in with the Phantom."

He reached up and touched the bruise on God Eye's cheek. The agent winced at his touch.

"That's one hell of a bruise," he observed moving to gently cup her injured cheek.

"She got away," Galatea mumbled. "Ghost too."

Orsay nodded before barking out orders for the five remaining members of his security detail to find the intruders' locations on the monitors in the next room. Now, alone with Galatea, he turned to her and with a concerned look on his face he confessed.

"I was worried about you."

Agent God Eye missed the warning as she was slammed into the door. The taste of Tandoori spices assaulted her as Orsay showed the extent of his concern with a hungry kiss. Great. Out of all the bodyguards he surrounded himself with, the boss just had to be sleeping with the one she was impersonating. Galatea was beginning to pity the poor girl as the kisses continued. While Katea hadn't been that bad a kisser, it was clear that her partner fell spectacularly short. She would definitely need several _Death in the Afternoons_ to wash this taste away.

Ending the kiss, Orsay's hands travelled down Galatea's arms moving to slip around the agent's waist. _Think about the plan, think about the plan_, the mantra ran through God Eye's mind as she used all her willpower not to recoil from his touch. However, Orsay sensed her resistance and he grinned, misinterpreting her body language as he pulled her closer.

"You always were kind of shy," he murmured as he tried to remove her sunglasses. Galatea broke away from his embrace.

"You always did like to lead," he chuckled as he opened the door for them to stumble into his private room.

The door closed behind them. If she reacted rashly, Galatea reminded herself as Orsay's hands continued down her back, her cover would be blown. _Oh hell no, he was getting way_ _too touchy_ she thought as he reached under her jacket and began lifting her shirt. _And shirt removal was her speciality! Damn the plan. Irene would just have to be satisfied with his dead body. Pushing him away only seemed to excite him further, _she realised as his greedy eyes devoured her figure.

Giving him a flirtatious smile, Galatea escaped to the food trolley where the remains of Orsay's Tandoori chicken dinner sat waiting to be collected. It was the empty glass and bottle of Scotch that caught the agent's attention. Well, it wasn't her all time favourite but trying times called for flexibility.

"Katea," he called. God Eye gave him a coy look as she removed the screw cap.

"You don't usually tease," Orsay frowned as he watched her. "Nor do you drink."

Galatea ignored him and began leisurely reading the label. Her eyebrows rose in surprise upon realising the bottle's value. For that price, there was no way she could bring herself to use it as a weapon. Her eyes scanned the rest of the trolley's contents absentmindedly picking out the silver covering dish. No, too light. That left the tray then. Dumping the ice cream dessert that sat balanced upon it, Galatea felt the tray's weight before looking up to see Orsay approaching her not at all pleased with being ignored.

"Katea, what the hell are you playing at?"

Galatea looked thoughtfully down at the tray in her hands.

"Frisbee," she replied nonchalantly before sending the tray spinning towards him with a small flick of her wrist. The projectile slammed full force into Orsay's face and sent him tumbling to the floor.

Returning to the bottle of Chivas Regal Royal Salute, Galatea took a much needed drink straight from the bottle just as the door to Orsay's room slammed open. There stood Ophelia, thoroughly soaked with wet strands of her hair escaping from her plait and sticking to her face. The band-aid that feebly clung to her forehead was half hanging from her skin. The bodyguard hadn't bothered to pat it back in place being too busy dragging by a fist full of her jacket the slumped body of Cynthia.

"Ghost," Ophelia greeted, depositing the unconscious Cynthia none too gently across the rug where she nudged her with her foot.

Receiving no answer, she glanced up and noticed for the first time Orsay's unconscious form several feet away. Her silver eyes full of curiosity, she followed the progress of the still rolling tray, wobbling slightly but still refusing to tumble until it disappeared into the reception room. Blinking, Ophelia locked eyes with Galatea standing beside the food trolley, bottle in hand. Confusion crossed her features. She tilted her head in the direction of Orsay as she silently waited for the agent to explain. Galatea gave Ophelia a smile and answering before finishing off the bottle confided.

"He's one hell of a boring guy."

* * *

><p>It seemed as though luck had totally abandoned her. Eva stared at the short straw she had drawn a few minutes ago after their arrival at Hotel Pieta. Lacking the numbers and always thinking of the public, Jean had entered the building alone leaving Eva on traffic duty. The Golf formed a barrier across the road that led to Hotel Pieta, its flashing warning lights indicating that the road was closed. Eva leaned against the roof of the car having just diverted the latest stream of traffic away. Because the hotel was located on a single lane cul-de-sac it was basically a dead-end street with the sprawling hotel placed strategically at the end overlooking the ocean behind it.<p>

A silver sports car pulled up at the intersection, its blinker flashing to indicate its intention of turning into the cul-de-sac. The car made its way slowly towards Eva and smoothly came to a stop. Eva walked around to the driver's side as the window came down to reveal the identity of the owner. Wavy, long black hair flowed down her back and she looked disinterestedly at Eva over the top of her sunglasses.

"I'm sorry madam but this road's closed," Eva informed her.

"Oh?" The woman tapped her chin in thought. "That's not good. I have to pick up several wayward souls."

"Not tonight, madam," Eva regretfully informed her.

The woman sighed, her hand returning to the steering wheel as she gazed at the hotel in the distance. She gestured to the Golf in front of her.

"Police business?"

"There's been a disturbance but I have several of our finest officers on the scene," Eva lied.

Well it wasn't technically a lie. Jean was one of the finest officers in the force.

"Good luck then." The woman gave the briefest hint of a smile as she put the car in reverse. Eva stood safely back so she could execute the turn.

Eva cursed, for no sooner had she given the woman space, but she'd thrown the gear shift into drive and floored the accelerator. The car headed straight for the Golf but at the last moment darted around the bonnet and headed right for the hotel. Eva stared after its tail lights as they vanished into the distance. Jean was going kill her.

* * *

><p>Placing the empty bottle upon the trolley, Galatea took a moment to observe her new opponent whose brow was furrowed in thought. She suddenly clicked her fingers as if finally reaching a conclusion.<p>

"You're the other Ghost." Ophelia pointed at her while God Eye confirmed it with a smile.

"Come for a fight?"

"A rescue actually," Galatea informed her. "But don't mind me I'll be gone soon."

"Like a Ghost?"

Ophelia laughed at her clumsy joke, a smile forming as she suggested.

"Why don't we play a game?"

"That would depend on the stakes," Galatea murmured.

"I'll give her to you." Ophelia indicated Cynthia with a kick.

"But only if you win. I've been waiting a long time to fight you Ghosts. So don't hold back and show me your skills."

"I'm afraid that would be impossible." Galatea's smile turned flirtatious.

"To show you the extent of my skills would require a far more intimate setting."

Galatea's eyes began to examine Ophelia's figure. She noticed the two holes in her shirt which offered a glimpse of the vest underneath.

"And considerably less clothing," God Eye concluded.

Her words brought a confused look to Ophelia's face.

"Intimate? Clothing? What the hell are you on about?"

She surprised the agent with her speed as she appeared in front of her, the blade of her hidden knife against Galatea's neck.

"I suppose killing you has a certain intimacy to it," Ophelia mused as she removed Galatea's sunglasses with the tip of her blade. "These really don't suit you."

"I'm quite flattered you've been checking me out," Galatea replied as her hand searched for a weapon on the trolley.

The confusion on Ophelia's face doubled at the agent's words.

"I always check out my opponent before a fight," she shrugged casting a look at Cynthia's unconscious form on the floor.

She turned her attention back to the agent only to jerk backwards upon finding that her momentary distraction had allowed Galatea to step dangerously close. Ophelia's brows rose in surprise at the agent's speed.

"How…" the agent paused as her hands began to play with the collar of her opponent's blouse.

"Do…" the single drawn out word was accompanied by the movement of her fingers slowly travelling down from the collar to stop teasingly at the first button.

"I…" Galatea continued undoing the first button and moving to the next one as Ophelia's expression became one of absolute confusion.

"Compare?" God Eye finished suggestively whispering the word into the bodyguard's ear.

Jerking back as Galatea's breath tickled her ear, Ophelia stepped from the agent's grasp, the perplexity of the current situation proving too much for her. From a safe distance she fixed the agent with a puzzled look having just processed her question.

"Not bad, actually," Ophelia shrugged. "You look as if you'd give me a good workout."

"Darling, I could be tempted to give you the …"

Ophelia's blade came stabbing towards her and cut her off in mid sentence. Agent God Eye used her table knife from the trolley to parry the attack. A gleeful laugh greeted their locked blades. Ophelia was practically shaking with excitement.

"You're not seriously going to fight me with that?"

"Well I intend to add a fork," Galatea told her truthfully.

Her response brought further laughter as Ophelia grabbed Galatea's tie to steady herself.

"I like you! You're so marvellously stupid!"

Ophelia fought hard to get her giggles under control.

"I'm really going to have to kill you now."

The grip upon the agent's tie tightened. Ophelia unexpectedly pulled Galatea towards her and head butted her square in the face, her movement unlocking their blades. God Eye found herself on the defensive as Ophelia attacked again driving her back against the trolley and then sending her tumbling over the top, the contents smashing to the floor with her. Then Ophelia's knife came slashing towards her as Galatea grabbed the fork from the ruins to parry the blow. Ophelia's blade slid down between the prongs. She was now straddling Galatea, pinning her to the floor and under the pressure she was exerting on her blade, the fork began to bend.

"You're not the first assassin to get me in this position," Galatea informed her.

The blade was now much closer to her throat. Struggling to keep the blade away from her, Galatea kicked out at the silver dish cover. Without hesitation, she flicked it into the air bringing it crashing down on Ophelia's head. Her opponent temporarily dazed, God Eye struck out with a punch to Ophelia's face. Dislodging her assailant she scrambled to her feet. Galatea mournfully looked at her fork now bent 180 degrees perpendicular to its handle. Knowing it was now useless, she threw the fork at Ophelia who was recovering her senses. The bodyguard ducked but the fork grazed her cheek as it whistled past. Now Ophelia came charging towards her. Galatea had to use the table knife to defend herself. As the two traded blows, Ophelia with almost childlike glee, Galatea wondered how on earth she would be able to acquire a spoon.

* * *

><p>Straightening out her skimpy black mini skirt, Miria once again regretted allowing Tabitha to talk her into wearing the hotel uniform as a disguise. She had never felt so naked before. The length of the skirt in her opinion was tiny even by mini standards. It barely hid the sheath holding her knife that given no choice, had to be strapped to her thigh. She would have to leave the others in Tabitha's safe keeping and head off into enemy territory with this one trusty weapon.<p>

Miria glowered as she stopped fussing with her skirt. The incredibly tight blouse, which Tabitha had insisted was vital if the credibility of her disguise was to fool Orsay's security, was just as much of a problem for her. It annoyed her that the blouse was several sizes too small. Surely there was another one her size in the cupboard, but Tabitha had quickly shut the door, pushed this one into her hands and insisted she wear it.

Outside the door to suite 214, Miria straightened the navy captain's cap upon her head. She glared at her trolley with its empty laundry basket. This crazy plan might just work and the quicker she got this over with the quicker she could ditch the uniform. Her knock was answered promptly. The door opened a fraction, wide enough for the barrel of a gun and the inquisitive eye of one Orsay's security men to greet her. Seeing the familiar staff captain's cap, the guard opened the door further to question her. Miria buried one fist in his stomach and slapped her other hand over his mouth to stifle his grunt. She quickly withdrew her hand and viciously elbowed him in the jaw. As he keeled over the side of the laundry basket she checked him for weapons before pushing him in completely. Taking his gun she stealthily slipped into the executive suite.

* * *

><p>Silence greeted her. From the suite's reception room, she was faced with the choice between two closed doors. Miria edged towards the nearest door and began to listen intently. Faint sniffs could be heard from inside, also the occasional grumble. Cracking the door open a fraction, Miria assessed the room. Taking up most of the space was a wall to wall collection of plasma flat screen monitors each showing a different part of the hotel. She found who she was looking for huddled in a corner, her arms hugged around her knees as she tearfully observed the four bodyguards. She was clearly frightened but she didn't seem to be hurt, Miria noted as she continued to scan the room looking for any sign of Orsay and Galatea.<p>

Before she could chance a glance behind her at the other room, her field of vision was obscured as one of the security men approached reaching for the handle. The Phantom tried to withdraw before the door swung open and an irritable security guard confronted her.

"Oi, what's taking you…?" he began but trailed off upon seeing Miria.

His hand instantly reached for his gun but Miria bashed her gun into the side of his head, catching him as he slumped forward. His three comrades turned towards the disturbance at the door, confusion written on their faces at the sight of the hotel staff uniform. Almost instantaneously recognising Miria, Staff's lethal assassin, they reached for their guns on the desk and levelled the barrels at the door as the Phantom pulled her fallen opponent swiftly out of their line of sight.

Inside the monitor room, one of the security guards gestured towards Yuma who quickly scrambled to her feet the moment the weapon was aimed at her. Training the gun on the chef, she indicated for her to approach the door as she followed with the other guards. Hands held up in surrender, Yuma obeyed, stopping when signalled in the doorway of the room.

"Make one false move and we put a bullet through her," the guard's voice rang out.

Hearing, the threat, Miria lay her opponent face down upon the carpet. She needed something to distract the guards. She took the gun from his belt as she slipped the other gun into the band of her skirt. She now proceeded to quickly disassemble the gun. Removing the guide rod and spring which allowed her access to the barrel, the Phantom gently removed it. Grasping the barrel, she crept towards the door keeping to the wall and out of sight. Yuma's frightened eyes followed her every movement, the fear paralysing her and preventing her from turning her head towards the Phantom and giving away her location. With a small flick, the assassin rolled the barrel into the room. It stopped as it hit the shoe of the closest guard.

"What the…" she exclaimed, the other two momentarily followed her eyes to the object they had yet to recognise.

But a moment was all the Phantom needed. Pulling Yuma out of the way she levelled her gun and fired at a monitor. The bullet shattered the screen startling the security as Miria took another monitor out reigning glass fragments over the floor. Scattering, the guards brought their guns up to aim at the Phantom only to find she was already on the move taking down the first guard with a kick that sent her into the screens.

Unable to get a bead on their fast moving target, the two remaining security struck out with their weapons as Miria came within range. She dodged the strikes just in time, but her cap was clipped by their blows and knocked from her head. Foot lashing out, she caught the cap before it could land on the floor and flicking it upwards she observed from the corner of her eye how it flopped onto the head of the nearest female guard. The hat fazed her slightly, enough for the assassin to knock the gun from her hand. Miria quickly brought her hands up to grab the brim of the cap and jammed it painfully down over her opponent's eyes. Vision obscured the guard never saw Miria's fist whack into her face. As she fell backwards, the Phantom pulled the cap off and let her unconscious body slam to the floor.

Turning to face the last man standing, Miria lashed out with her foot disarming him as he levelled off to take a shot. Finding himself defenceless he struck out with a punch. Miria caught his fist with the inside of her cap. A knee to his stomach sent him doubling over and stumbling backwards out of the room into the reception room, the Phantom pausing only long enough to replace the cap upon her head before she followed him. Yuma's scream drew her attention as the door opposite burst open narrowly missing the chef. Galatea had been kicked through the threshold of Orsay's private room by a clearly enraged Ophelia.

The agent hit the floor with a thud, Ophelia upon her in an instant. Their knives had been lost in Orsay's private office so fists struck out as the two battled, Galatea gaining the upper hand as she caught the back of Ophelia's head. She slammed the still writhing bodyguard head first into the floor.

"Where do you hide all those knives?" Galatea asked as she paused to catch her breath. Ophelia spat the blood from her cut lip.

"You're not bad, Ghost!" she praised. "You're the first one who's seen my whole collection."

"Once again I'm flattered but unfortunately you're not my type," Galatea regretfully informed her.

"Too much for you to handle?" Ophelia suggested renewing her determination to resist.

"No, you're too much damn effort," Galatea replied. She moved the hand which had pinned Ophelia's head to the floor and reinforced her grip as she was really struggling to keep a firm lock on the bodyguard's arms.

Head now free, Ophelia jerked it backwards nearly catching the agent upon the chin and forcing God Eye to pull her into a headlock, a stream of curses escaping her lips as she tightened her hold. Despite being choked, Ophelia began to giggle until her eyes caught sight of Miria who had frozen upon seeing them.

"Phantom." The word was spat out as her eyes gleamed with hate.

An elbow slammed painfully into Galatea's side robbed the agent of breath. Ophelia twisted out of her strangle hold and ignoring Galatea she hungrily eyed her favourite prey.

"Phantom." She inclined her head in greeting, her smile widening as Miria reached for her knife.

"I thought I killed you," Miria growled as she delivered a backhander to Orsay's final guard, who upon recovering had attempted a sneak attack.

"You thought wrong," Ophelia answered in a sing song voice. She tut tutted over the failure of the guard's clumsy attack on Miria and began to brush out the creases in her blouse.

"You should really check the body before coming to rash conclusions," she continued chidingly.

Ophelia tapped the vest which was now clearly visible as several buttons had been lost during her fight with Galatea.

"Ceramic plates…" Ophelia trailed off looking thoughtful. "And now I'm going to have to kill you…"

She pointed at Miria before jerking her thumb back at Galatea who had risen to her feet massaging her sore rib.

"And her too because both of you ruined a perfectly good shirt. I happen to really like this shirt!"

Before Galatea could move to provide support, Ophelia attacked Miria. The Phantom drew her knife just before she was sent crashing into the nearest wall, Yuma jumping out of the way to avoid the collision. Miria slashed forwards leaving a deep gash in her fellow assassin's arm. The sight of blood seemed to excite Ophelia who attacked again in a frenzy knocking the knife from the Phantom's grasp. Latching onto Miria's arm, Ophelia bit down upon the flesh drawing blood and a hiss of pain. With little effort she dodged Miria's wild strike in retaliation and smashed Miria back against the wall dangerously close to Yuma who finally scampered away into the next room. Hands firmly closing around the Phantom's neck, Ophelia cackled as Miria tried to wrench her hands away.

"Do you remember?" Ophelia taunted moving to cut off her air supply. "I wonder if you'll call for help like _she _did?"

Anger flashed across Miria's face but before Ophelia could continue, Galatea freed the Phantom from her grip and pulled her back. Miria was still in the throes of her blind rage and ignoring Galatea's attempts to get a strangle hold on Ophelia she tackled them both to the floor. Rolling out of the way, Galatea took a moment to get her bearings.

Miria, still driven by her blind fury, had Ophelia pinned to the floor and as she struck out again and again at her opponent's face Ophelia continued to giggle uncontrollably. Unobserved by Miria, Ophelia picked up the fallen knife. The blade slashed forward towards the Phantom's jugular but Galatea again managed to pull Miria out of the way as Ophelia stabbed at her taking several strands of her hair.

"Damn it, Miria, she almost killed you!" Galatea swore. The sound of her voice snapped the Phantom out of the rage that had descended upon her.

She relaxed within Galatea's protective grip, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. As if to taunt her, Ophelia rose to her feet, blood trickling from her nose as a result of the Phantom's assault. Cracking her neck as if to clear away the pain, Ophelia barrelled towards them once again.

* * *

><p>The soft call of her name forced Cynthia's swollen eyes to open. She began to focus on the anxious face of her favourite chef.<p>

"Yuma?" Cynthia croaked. "Damn…"

She had so many questions, so many things to say but the pain inside her head clouded any attempt to speak. She settled for a reassuring smile but winced as the effort caused her cheek to ache. The extent of her injuries became apparent as Yuma pulled her into a hug unknowingly sending jolts of pain throughout the medic's body. Slipping one hand limply around the chef, Cynthia feebly hugged back before resting her head on Yuma's shoulder as she slowly regained her senses.

"Where is she?" she asked, worried about the whereabouts of Ophelia. Yuma pulled away, concern overtaking her features.

"She's outside…your friends...I got rescued…" Words tumbled from the chef's lips, incomprehensible to the medic who managed a small smile despite the pain.

"Slow down," she muttered fondly. Yuma obeyed her with a nod.

The sounds of battle reached the medic's ears sending her jolting up to survey the room. She took in the slumped form of Orsay before focusing her gaze upon Yuma. She would need her help to carry him.

* * *

><p>The Phantom's mind told her something was wrong. Ophelia was wildly charging at them and still Galatea hadn't made any attempt to scramble out of the way. Instead, her grip around Miria had noticeably relaxed. Sparing a quick glance at the agent behind her, the Phantom bit back a curse as she caught Galatea's admiring gaze travel the length of her Pieta uniform completely oblivious to the incoming Ophelia.<p>

"Damn it, Miria," Galatea voiced her approval along with an appreciative whistle. "Are you trying to make it up to me?"

Before the agent's hands had a chance to wander, Miria shoved her backwards just in time for the both of them to narrowly avoid decapitation. Taking the agent with her, the Phantom rolled out of the way of Ophelia's next attack quite aware that her manoeuvre had allowed Galatea to steal a quick, inappropriate touch_. _

_"_If only you'd concealed it in a more inaccessible place," Galatea grumbled.

She followed her complaint by unclipping the knife sheath upon Miria's thigh. Galatea's hands lingered more than was necessary. The agent met Miria's murderous gaze with a mirthful smile as pivoting, Ophelia changed her course, her knife whistling towards her opponents only for the blade to be incepted to slide perfectly into the sheath within Galatea's hands. A look of confusion was evident on Ophelia's features. Miria used her temporary distraction to land a kick square in Ophelia's face. As Ophelia stumbled backwards, God Eye pulled the Phantom out of the room and into the corridor. Cynthia slammed the door the moment her comrades were clear of the room and Yuma quickly locked the door with the key the Ghosts had stolen from reception. The door rattled as a thump was heard from inside the room. Ophelia had thrown her full weight against the door. The four exchanged worried glances. Galatea and Miria noticed that during their fight, Cynthia and Yuma had managed to drag Orsay outside the room and dump him in the laundry basket. Another thump on the door caused them to jump. Miria grabbed the trolley and they took off down the corridor.

* * *

><p>The simple gathering of information was very complicated these days or so it seemed to Detective Jean. She resisted the urge to sigh as she stared down the receptionist who refused to shrink under her professional scrutiny. The hotel staff member beside her was just as unco-operative. Seriously, this was the last thing she needed.<p>

"I'm here to investigate a call one of your patrons made about a fight in your Teppanyaki restaurant," Jean tried again.

She was met with two denials, heads moving in unison. The two staff members stole a quick glance at each other which even a rookie detective could tell gave the impression that they were definitely hiding something. Jean was about to try again as diplomacy was often a slow, drawn-out process when she was interrupted by a commotion from the corridor. She had to blink to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her, for sprinting down the corridor and heading straight for reception, was the strangest collection of people the detective had ever seen. Leading the charge was a hotel staff member pushing forward a trolley upon which sat a large laundry basket from which protruded a leg, its foot clad in an expensive shoe. Running alongside her was a chef who desperately clung to her hat. The woman on the other side of the trolley was sporting several nasty looking bruises. Bringing up the rear was a security guard who now and then, chanced a glance back over her shoulder. The strange group sped past the detective, taking the two receptionists with them and leaving a stunned detective in their wake. Moments later, Jean's prized fedora was knocked from her head as a blur sped past her in hot pursuit. Retrieving her hat from the floor, she brushed it off before placing it back upon her head. Maybe she'd just ask a guest for directions to the Teppanyaki restaurant.

* * *

><p>The lift doors opened and the group rushed out into the underground car park. As they made their way past the first row of parking bays, the hum of an engine alerted them to the car before it appeared. A silver sports car screeched to a halt in front of them. The door opened and out stepped a tall woman, her wavy black hair bouncing with her movements. At the sight of her, a mixture of emotions too fast to separately identify flickered across Galatea's face until she settled for an almost sheepish look. The woman greeted the group with a serene smile and over the top of her sunglasses she looked at each of them in turn. Gaze lingering on the hotel staff members and chef, her face betraying no sign of emotion or surprise, she casually removed her sunglasses in one smooth motion and looked towards agent God Eye.<p>

"Are they members of your harem, Gala?"

"Potentially," Galatea responded, her sheepish look vanishing in favour of a more comfortable smirk.

The woman made her way to the back of the car, opened the boot and removed a single item. Slinging the shotgun over her shoulder she gestured towards Orsay, still unconscious in the laundry basket on the trolley.

"Throw him in and everybody, get into the car," she instructed them before leisurely strolling over to Galatea.

"Next time, tell me beforehand about extra baggage," she lightly scolded. A loud bang was heard in the distance as the fire stairs that led to the car park were thrown open with great force.

"I would have brought the boss' Mercedes," she continued. Turning from Galatea she faced Ophelia as she charged from the entrance of the fire stairs heading towards them at full speed.

"And you know Irene's going to kill you for this," she added as an afterthought levelling the shotgun at the approaching Ophelia.

Her shot missed the target as she had misjudged Ophelia's speed.

"Oh," she sounded genuinely surprised. "She _is_ fast."

Unfazed, her hand left the trigger in favour of gripping the end of the barrel. Casually, swinging it upwards she smashed the incoming Ophelia in the face, the blow sending her unconscious form crumpling to the floor. Several shouts echoed throughout the car park. She looked up to see the remnants of Orsay's security detail barge through the door armed with an array of guns.

"Oh, what to do?" she mused. Galatea tugged her in the direction of the car.

"Maybe now would be a good time to start the car, Teresa," God Eye suggested as the security caught sight of them.

"Not a bad idea." The number one Ghost responded and pushing Galatea into the backseat she slid over the bonnet to land on the driver's side of the car.

Climbing into the driver's seat, Teresa checked the progress of the security thundering towards them. Turning the keys in the ignition, the engine purred into life as Teresa threw a glance at the crowded backseat.

"Hold on to something," she murmured, engaging reverse gear and slamming her foot down on the accelerator.

The car sped backwards away from the security, Teresa narrowly avoiding a collision with a Golf that had just entered the car park. The Golf swerved to the side giving them a clear run at the exit. Teresa spun the wheel and threw the gear shift into drive. The car performed a sharp turn and placed them directly in front of the ramp leading them to freedom. Stamping on the accelerator, the car shot forward.

Thrown against each other as Teresa put the car through its manoeuvres, Galatea and Miria had no choice but to hold onto each other as the car smashed through the ticket barrier, the force jolting the entire backseat. The car shot off into the night. Miria and Galatea were sandwiched between Anastasia and Tabitha and forced into close proximity. As Teresa turned at the top of the street and joined the stream of traffic on the main road, the agent and assassin glanced back at the retreating building of Hotel Pieta.

Letting out a sigh of relief, they turned away from the back window, stopping as they brushed against each other. A genuine smile made its way to Galatea's face as she took in the sight of Miria's battered captain's cap. The Phantom returned her smile, stopping herself just in time before she reached out to gently caress Galatea's black eye. Instead, she settled for finding the agent's hand and cautiously entwined their fingers. God Eye showed no resistance to her touch.

Meeting Galatea's eyes, Miria was quite unaware that despite her best intentions they were drawing closer, caught up in the moment. Both leant forward to kiss only for the mood to be ruined as a frown made its way across Galatea's face, the agent halting to sniff Miria's neck, oblivious to the assassin's bewildered look. With a knowing hum, Galatea withdrew, her frown vanishing as her trademark smirk emerged and she asked slyly.

"Tabitha?"

The assassin flinched.


	9. Chapter 9

Bar Mucha

* * *

><p>AN. Anon Viewer Z: Thank you for continuing to review. Well, about the smell, Tabitha did fall right on top of Galatea in some chapter, so I'm sure God Eye took a moment to take in the scent =). I'm glad you approve of Detective Jean and I was watching the anime episode where Eva dies and I just felt so sad hence I just had to include her, so yeah more Eva and of course Jean in the upcoming chapters. As for Elizabeth, yep she's the same one with the Ghosts. Ophelia was outta control and I've forgotten completely about Roxy, so she'll turn up again and who knows there just might be an Ophelia/Roxanne showdown. Oh, Teresa and Galatea have a unique relationship, but I guess Galatea feels a grudging respect for Teresa not that she would admit it. And the rankings...

Rankings - Only field agents get rankings and I kinda ranked them according to their overall skills. Some of the agents are better in certain fields e.g. Cassandra - cover ups, Galatea - seduction, Elizabeth - assassination, Flora - undercover.

So here are the ranking for the Ghosts in Bar Mucha.

1st - Teresa, 2nd - Irene, 3rd - Galatea, 4th - Cassandra, 5th - Elizabeth, 6th - Cynthia, 7th - Helen, 8th - Flora

Flora is part time hence the low ranking. Dietrich and Raftela rarely take to the field so they don't figure in the rankings. Hope that explains stuff, enjoy the chapter.

Yeah, speaking of the chapter I tried, I really tried to write a romantic chapter but I ended up writing this...stuff...I don't even...No I can't find the words for it and its been so long, its all I have to offer =( . Oh, yeah its official I have completely and utterly butchered the personalities of the cast of Claymore...hey wait that happened way back in chapter one. Forgive me Norihiro Yagi!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

* * *

><p><em>She wasn't trying to avoid her<em>, Miria reasoned as she moodily, splashed the milk into the row of coffee cups in front of her, oblivious of the mess she was making. It was just that since reaching the Ghost's safe house, she had felt constantly confused. She crushed the sides of the carton, spilling the final drops of milk that clung to the bottom, the emptying of the entire carton going unnoticed by the assassin as she tensed upon remembering the events that had occurred in the early hours of the morning.

The moment Tabitha's name was mentioned, Miria had pulled her hand away from Galatea. She had no idea why she felt a strange mixture of both guilt and disappointment. When they finally reached the safe house, her confusion had doubled as leaving the car she had caught Tabitha gazing intently at her and when she returned the gaze with a look of utter confusion, the hotel staff member had turned shyly away, a blush staining her cheeks. That had brought back the memories of a certain cleaning closet and Miria wondered if the chemicals from the detergents and disinfectants stored there were playing havoc with her mind because in all her life she had never been so damn confused. And confusion was the last thing she needed right now.

"You have an interesting way of making coffee."

Miria tensed at the familiar voice not bothering to acknowledge Galatea in the doorway, the agent leaning against the frame, hands in the pockets of her stolen security jacket. Instead, she searched the cupboards for a tray to put the cups on.

"Drawer, third from the bottom," Galatea's voice informed her.

Following her instructions, Miria bent down, pulled out the stuck drawer and discovered several neatly folded tablecloths. With a sigh, the assassin turned her attention to Galatea whose smirk had widened as she continued to observe. It was only when these observations led to the appearance of a sly smile of approval that realisation caught up with Miria. She had completely forgotten that she was wearing a miniskirt. Straightening up, she tugged self consciously at the hem in a futile attempt to lengthen the skirt as the agent stepped into the small safe house kitchen.

"Well, it has been a long time since I was last here," God Eye excused her mistake. She reached past Miria and retrieved a tray from one of the top cupboards.

She played with it thoughtfully within her hands as Miria became uncomfortably aware of how close they were. In an effort to gain control, Miria held out her hand for the tray as Galatea adopted a thoughtful expression in response to her gesture.

"Is this what you're looking for?" she asked.

She received no response, Miria continuing to wait expectantly for the agent to relinquish the tray.

"How do I know you won't hit me over the head with it when I give it to you?"

It was a valid question and the thought of it was oh so tempting that it brought the beginnings of a smile to Miria's lips.

"You'll just have to trust me," she murmured taking a step forward, which bringing her within inches of Galatea, allowed her to pluck the tray from the agent's hands.

The Phantom had fallen into the trap and Galatea, hands now free, wasted no time in slipping them around Miria's waist before drawing the assassin into her embrace.

"You need to relax otherwise you'll be no good to anybody," Galatea admonished, quite aware of how desperately Miria was fighting to mask the tension she felt, the strain having multiplied now that she found herself within the agent's arms.

"I doubt being embraced by you will help me to relax." Her tone was more hostile than she would have preferred, but the agent seemed as undaunted as always and looking the assassin directly in the eye, she had the audacity to whisper.

"I was hoping it wouldn't be that easy."

Having guessed her intentions, Miria stopped Galatea from proceeding further as she shoved the tray between them, the agent startled by the sudden barrier that was now inches from her face.

"Is this really necessary?" Even with her voice muffled, there was no mistaking Galatea's offended tone.

"You're incapable of learning," Miria retorted, the tray blocking her sight of the mischievous turn Galatea's smirk had taken.

"I find that the best way to learn is through a hands-on approach."

Galatea swore she could now feel the heat of Miria's murderous gaze for despite the tray's presence, the Phantom had just realised that throughout their conversation, Galatea's hands had wandered from her waist and were daringly about to lift the hem of her skirt. In a second the tray had vanished as Miria sharply tapped it against the wandering hands effectively halting their movement.

"How do you manage to be so single minded?" Miria demanded wearily.

"I prefer to use the word determined…" Galatea eyed the tray as she spoke. "As for the reason, you should be well aware of that, Miria."

"How am I responsible for your friskiness?" Miria asked as Galatea eased the tray from her hand and placed it a safe distance away from her grasp.

"Because I never know where I stand with you." Galatea touched the visor of Miria's captain's cap. "You're kissing me then you're punching me and it gets awfully confusing."

"You're not the easiest person to get along with."

"I thought I was quite easy," God Eye murmured.

"Maybe that's why I can't stand you," Miria whispered aware of the rapidly shrinking space between them.

"Sounds like you're jealous." Galatea's smirk had become smug.

"Jealous?" Miria scoffed. "I think that's your ego talking."

"I think we need to stop talking," Galatea muttered. She was quite mystified that throughout the conversation despite the intimacy of their position she had yet to claim a kiss.

"I will hit you," Miria threatened, the words doing little to stop Galatea who inched forward to remedy the situation.

"Then I'll just have to be quicker."

"You can't beat me when it comes to speed," Miria warned.

"True," Galatea confessed. "But I do have the edge when it comes to technique."

With a small flick, Galatea knocked the cap from Miria's head and momentarily distracted, the assassin found herself pushed against the bench top with only a second to react before Galatea kissed her cutting off her exclamation. And this time, not hesitating to respond, Miria grabbed the lapels of Galatea's jacket and pulled her closer. The agent had none of Tabitha's caution, the kiss more involved than anything that had happened during the entire episode within the closet. And there had definitely been no alcohol present that time. Miria shoved Galatea away, grimacing as she tasted the alcohol upon her own lips. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she demanded.

"What the hell have you been drinking? And when did you even have time to have a drink?"

"Oh, probably around the same time you were getting acquainted with Tabitha," Galatea answered miffed that she had been pushed away only after one kiss.

"God Eye," Miria sighed as she tried to placate her. "Can we talk about this at a more fitting time?"

"There's no need, I don't want to know the details." The agent dismissed the subject choosing to gaze at Miria until the edges of her lips began to form into an approving smirk.

"I'm quite surprised actually," Galatea admitted. "That Tabitha doesn't have a black eye."

Miria fought to keep her face impassive but her situation was not helped at all as Galatea was now close enough for her to smell the aroma of the whiskey upon her breath. Quickly, distancing herself from the agent by returning to the cups of coffee, Miria grabbed the first cup and shoved it into Galatea's hands.

"I think your coffee's gone cold," she weakly pointed out.

The agent took a cautious sip grimacing at the overly milky taste. Had Miria emptied half the carton into her cup? It was clear that coffee making wasn't one of the Phantom's skills. Still she wasn't very fond of the beverage and used its bitter taste only for emergencies.

"It doesn't matter," Galatea told her noticing that Miria had placed the other two cups upon the tray.

As she placed her cup beside the others, Galatea met the Phantom's curious look. After all, it had been her request for coffee that had led Miria to the kitchen in the first place.

"I wanted the coffee to get rid of a bad aftertaste, but…" Galatea trailed off to lick her lip. "You've taken care of that."

The Phantom looked unimpressed. Her eyes flickered to take in Galatea's pensive expression as God Eye deliberately licked the corners of her mouth again as if the bad taste she spoke of still lingered faintly.

"Actually…" Her smirk warned Miria she wasn't going to like what she said next. "There's a faint trace of it."

In a mere moment, Galatea had invaded Miria's personal space and was clearly enjoying it.

"Care to help me with it?" she asked innocently.

"I don't think I'm capable of taking on your whiskey breath."

Galatea laughed at Miria's response.

"It's not the whiskey I'm worried about" she confided.

"Must have been something terrible," Miria muttered no longer gazing into Galatea's eyes, her stare instead focused upon the agent's lips that were much too close to hers.

"You have no idea," Galatea managed to whisper. Miria, growing tired of the agent's teasing took charge of the situation and locking her arms firmly around God Eye's neck she used her hold to pull her forward into a swift kiss.

In her defence, Galatea reasoned as she enjoyed the familiar sensation of Miria kissing her, she had started out with good intentions. She had merely dropped by the kitchen to check on the progress of the coffee that Miria was taking forever to make. And then…. the coffee had taken second priority as things often did when she had Miria in her arms.

Miria ended the kiss by pulling away. Galatea felt most disappointed as in her opinion the assassin had ended it far too early. Now familiar with the taste of the alcohol, Miria glanced uncomfortably at Galatea.

"Is it gone now?" she asked quietly.

"Not yet," Galatea hummed happily. The assassin guessed her unspoken request and repeated her action.

"How about now?" Miria asked, her tone edged with a faint hint of amusement.

"No." Galatea decided to push her chances and added with a dramatic sigh. "It's still there."

Miria took the bait and kissed her again. Although the kiss was noticeably longer this time, it still betrayed a hesitation on Miria's part. But where was the fun in that? As Galatea initiated their next kiss, Miria loosened her grip upon Galatea's neck and with what little resistance the assassin had left totally gone, her hands slipped towards the agent's shirt. Finding the tie, Miria wrapped it around her fingers. She was quite surprised when Galatea abruptly broke off the kiss as she jerked her head back, a worried look on her face.

"I don't think a head butt will help it to go away." The words were spoken in a rush, Galatea desperate to avoid a repeat of the last time her tie had been grabbed by a Staff assassin.

Thoroughly confused by the agent's reaction, the Phantom's expression soon turned to one of annoyance as Galatea insisted on keeping the distance between them, the only thing stopping her from leaving the embrace being Miria's hold on her tie.

"It's a long story…" Galatea began, but once again she misinterpreted the assassin's scowl. Miria growled at her as she yanked upon the tie and brought the agent forward to end their-tug-of-war.

In preparation, the agent gritted her teeth, waiting for the moment when the Phantom's skull would smash into hers. Only it never happened. Miria brought her closer, stopping inches from her face. Galatea couldn't help but feel slightly excited at the angry look the assassin was giving her.

"Tell me when the taste's gone," she instructed.

Galatea blinked, confused at her words until Miria making everything clear, found Galatea's lips again. Ah, that was one great way to use a tie, Galatea thought as she was momentarily surprised by this sudden emergence of aggression. But oh, she could so willingly get used to this side of the Phantom. Deciding to take full advantage of the situation, Galatea returned the kiss while Miria pulled the loop free and tossed the tie away. Much to the agent's surprise, she felt Miria interlink their fingers to stop them from wandering further. Keeping a firm grip, Miria guided their hands towards the last place, the agent had expected. Okay, breathe, Galatea reminded herself. Things were moving faster than she had anticipated as her hands brushed against the zipper of the assassin's miniskirt.

God Eye brought them to a halt as she silently asked Miria's permission to continue. The assassin gave her the affirmative and drew her into another kiss as she pulled back the lapels of the jacket, determined to divest Galatea of her clothing first. Oh, well if you insist, Miria. Galatea's mind was beginning to get a little hazy and she fumbled as she attempted to undo the zipper. Damn. She gritted her teeth. Usually she was so efficient at removing clothing.

An impatient tug at the lapels focused her attention on Miria who cursed as the jacket refused to slip off the agent's shoulders. With a smirk, Galatea clumsily slipped out of the garment and returned to kissing her. Miria used this opportunity to slip the agent's iphone from the inner pocket before allowing the jacket to fall to the floor. As she returned Galatea's kisses, their hands wandered back to the zipper. Galatea's attention was directed towards the removal of Miria's skirt until, catching sight of someone in the doorway, paused mid-way through a phone conversation, she froze.

The spark of amusement in her usually bored silver eyes only intensified upon seeing the look of irritation from Galatea. Miria glanced up and following Galatea's gaze, her expression turned to one of instant mortification as she noticed who had caught them in this very compromising position.

"Oh," Teresa murmured into the phone as she gave the two of them a cursory glance. "Gala's going to have to call you back, boss."

An understanding hum followed as Teresa nodded along while listening to Irene's response. God Eye's irritation had faded to be replaced by a hopeful look as she gestured with her hand behind Miria's back, silently asking.

"Five more minutes?"

Teresa gave her fellow Ghost a truly apologetic shrug.

"Two more minutes?" Galatea continued her silent compromise holding up two corresponding fingers only to sigh as Teresa tossed her the phone.

With her finely tuned reflexes, Galatea caught the phone and raised it to her ear. She instantly regretted it as Irene's voice thundered from the phone. The intensity of her screaming was enough to send Miria jumping out of Galatea's arms and scrambling to rearrange her clothing.

Unable to look Teresa in the eye, she hurriedly left the kitchen, missing the concerned look Galatea gave her as she watched her retreat. Now in the corridor outside the kitchen, Miria pressed her back to the wall as she struggled to regain her composure while Teresa vanished into the kitchen. With a groan, Miria placed her head within her hands. Damn it. She hadn't meant to get so carried away but she had been completely captivated by the moment.

She was thankful that Teresa had good timing for she knew full well what would have occurred if Galatea's comrade hadn't interrupted them. She would have become another name on God Eye's incredibly long list of conquests. But then, in the kitchen she had wanted something more, some meaning beyond attraction because despite her flirtatious, overbearing and egotistical faults, Galatea, well she wasn't all that bad. Her head thumped miserably against the wall as her earlier confusion cleared. Oh, damn it, she really hated epiphanies.

* * *

><p>Upon reflection, Miria realised that the best place to hide post epiphany was not in the next room where she was struggling to resist the urge to thump her head into the nearest object over this latest example of her stupidity. Galatea had finished her phone conversation and was currently eyeing her with a look she couldn't quite place but whatever it was it was making her damn uncomfortable.<p>

She shifted self-consciously on the couch. It suddenly came to her attention that she had forgotten that couches, while comfortable, were highly dangerous places to be especially when a certain agent brazenly sat down beside her. She idly wondered if Galatea was even aware of the concept of personal space but a glance at God Eye looking far too pleased with herself informed Miria that she just didn't give a damn. The silence hung between them, the safe house feeling far too big with the absence of the civilians. It was just the two of them within the meeting room. Teresa was still in the kitchen.

"That was a quick phone call." Miria said the first thing that entered her head to deter Galatea from advancing any further for she knew from past experience the agent would be only too happy to continue as if this interruption had never occurred.

And Miria needed to stop her approaches because it would be unwise to allow her attraction to once again take control. The room suddenly felt too hot and Miria was sure that the slow burning open fireplace had little to do with it. Her eyes flickered towards Galatea taking in the absence of the tie, a lingering reminder of what had happened.

"The boss put the phone down surprisingly quickly," Galatea admitted freely. She added to Miria's discomfort as she slung her arm over the back of the couch, dangerously close to the assassin.

"I didn't think she'd approve." Miria glanced down at the floor berating herself for her lack of control.

"Teresa might have put in a good word," Galatea informed her. This drew a sympathetic look from Miria.

"She seems to care about you." Miria couldn't help giving voice to what she had observed of their interactions.

"We've always been somewhat close," Galatea admitted, gazing at the fireplace. "Despite her fascination for interruptions."

"You mean she's… done that before?" Miria asked cautiously.

"Frequently," Galatea confided with a yawn as she moved to snuggle closer to Miria oblivious of the sudden tension in the assassin's body.

Pulling at the tips of her fringe in irritation at these memories, Galatea leaned her head upon the Phantom's shoulder. Miria cricked her neck in her haste to dislodge Galatea and turn her head away from the agent. The irritating memories faded as understanding dawned and Galatea looked up to see a less than pleased Miria.

"Actually, Miria, that's the first time I've ever been caught in a kitchen."

Miria resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this observation. She really shouldn't have deluded herself into believing that Galatea was capable of being serious considering the woman stank of alcohol. The assassin tilted her head away to avoid smelling the whiskey upon her breath.

"How much did you drink?" Miria sighed.

"No idea," Galatea frowned, half concentrating. "Half…no about a bottle of scotch. It was Chivas, and I have no regrets."

Satisfied with her answer, God Eye shifted upon the couch getting more comfortable as she curled up against Miria.

"You're soused," Miria murmured, affection creeping into her voice as she tucked a stray strand of Galatea's blonde hair behind her ear. The agent mumbled contentedly.

Pulling herself away from Miria, Galatea fixed her with the best smirk she was currently capable of and whispered.

"Miria…you're pretty…" she paused slurring her next word. "Observant…"

She went to kiss her, misjudged the distance and instead kissed the corner of the assassin's mouth. Tugging at the top button of her own shirt, Galatea fumbled to undo it as the heat of the room began to get to her. She placed her elbow on the back of the couch and cradled her head trying to look at Miria as she fought the sudden urge to succumb to the comfortable couch and fall asleep.

"If Teresa hadn't…Would you have regretted it?" Galatea managed not to slur the words despite the sleepy tone that was invading her voice.

With barely a sound, the Phantom glanced at Galatea and quickly shifted back beside her. Miria's hand lifted to lightly caress her cheek, the agent's eyes doing their best to track the movement. Receiving a message, her blackberry buzzed alive. Miria withdrew to answer it.

"Miria?" Galatea questioned as the Phantom looked at the screen.

A melancholy smile formed as Miria turned to meet her questioning gaze.

"I know I'll regret this."

Miria held up the phone. Galatea's eyes widened in recognition as her hand made its way towards the inner pocket of her security jacket and found it empty.

"I'm quite impressed." Galatea returned the Phantom's smile. "Would you like to steal anything else?"

Moving with the speed she was renowned for, Miria pressed fleetingly against Galatea, placed a kiss to her bruised eye and removed the keys for the silver Honda Civic from the agent's shirt pocket.

"I'm sorry," Miria whispered regretfully.

She drew back the lapel of Galatea's jacket and slipped the phone back into the inner pocket before looking at the agent one final time.

"Miria, if we'd had more time I'd have forgiven you completely."

The agent found it hard to continue as the room began to blur around her. Arms encircled her as Miria caught her before she tumbled from the couch. As Galatea slumped against her shoulder for support, the Phantom's breath was warm against her ear as she spoke her parting words.

"Staff's on the way. You've got twenty minutes."

* * *

><p><strong>Two Hours Earlier – The Ghosts Safe House<strong>

It had always been a point of contention among the Ghosts as to who was the scariest of their number. Cynthia was now rethinking her choice as she shifted uncomfortably under Raftela's stare which was beginning to reach the icy depths of Irene's trademark scowl. The interrogator awaiting their arrival had been displeased to find that her comrades were in the company of civilians. This had significantly delayed the plan to pump Orsay for information and if the growing intensity of her stare was any indication, it had put Raftela in a foul mood.

The medic turned to the two comrades beside her, all thoughts of support vanishing upon seeing that Teresa and Galatea were completely ignoring the interrogator. Teresa was disinterestedly checking the rounds in her shotgun, the barrel covering Orsay's unconscious form lying propped up in a corner of the room. And Galatea? Well her eyes had yet to leave the Phantom who was in the next room and flat out ignoring her. With a sigh, Cynthia squared her shoulders as she met Raftela's stare. She nearly missed the interrogator's barely perceptible nod in the direction of the meeting room where the civilians huddled around the fireplace, the Phantom a short distance apart.

"They were compromised," Cynthia justified, her voice slightly muffled by the ice pack she held to her bruised face. "We had no choice but to extract them."

"Have you assessed their threat levels?" Raftela's eyes flickered briefly over each of the civilians.

"No." Cynthia knew where the interrogator was heading with her line of inquiry. "And you can't _talk_ to them either," she added very firmly.

"It would be only a preliminary investigation," Raftela assured her.

"I suggest we follow the same procedure as always," Galatea cut in, her eyes still following Miria who having grown annoyed with her staring had retreated into the adjourning corridor.

"That's too dangerous without assessing them first," Raftela argued. "The mission was compromised and they might be to blame."

"Staff already knew I wasn't Hysteria Rabona."

A click broke the silence following Galatea's statement, Teresa having reloaded her weapon.

"Miria was alerted to the compromise by that assassin," Galatea continued as Cynthia and Teresa nodded upon the mention of Ophelia.

"Can we trust the Phantom's word?" Raftela cautioned. "We cannot forget that she was once loyal to the organisation."

"Miria didn't betray us." Galatea was quick to defend her.

"And what are you basing that upon?" Raftela's gaze narrowed in on Galatea. "We don't even know what her agenda is or why she approached us offering her help in taking down an organisation she had dedicated her entire life to."

"It's a coincidence that the Phantom was the first to find out about the compromise," Cynthia chimed in. "We were discovered alarmingly quickly. They must have had Galatea under surveillance from the start considering they knew I was working with you."

"When did you become aware the mission was compromised?" Raftela asked.

"Miria and I separated," Galatea recalled, clearly irritated. "When we reunited she said we had been compromised and then the security found us and they knew I was a Ghost."

"Are you sure the Phantom didn't lead you to the security?"

Galatea heard the accusation in Raftela's question and she didn't like it one bit as a sinking realisation formed. Miria had picked the door that led them stumbling into the quarters of Orsay's security detail. Knowing her question had at last unsettled Galatea, Raftela rose from her seat but was stopped as a hand was placed upon her arm.

"I'll interrogator her." God Eye's voice was as steady as her gaze.

"It would be far quicker if I did," Raftela argued. "Staff probably has this safe house's location. We need to leave as quickly as possible."

"This will only take a minute," Galatea winked rising from the couch. She headed out into the corridor in search of Miria, her three comrades watching her departure.

"What about the civilians?" Cynthia brought their attention to their next problem as Raftela and Teresa exchanged looks.

Raftela was the first to break the silence and allowing herself the merest reflection of a frown she took her phone from her pocket and dialled a number. Each of the Ghosts agreed that when it came to waking up a sleeping Deneve, the choice of running from a hail of bullets seemed by far the better option.

* * *

><p>Leaning against the railing of the dimly lit veranda of the safe house, Miria listened to the dial tone of her blackberry. As per routine, he picked up on the third ring, his gravelly voice greeting her.<p>

"Phantom?" The satisfied smirk could be imagined from the tone of Ermita's voice. "I was expecting your call."

"I got your message." Miria spoke through clenched teeth as she glanced at the entrance to the house, checking that she was still alone.

"It hurt me to send it to you," Ermita admitted. "Not for a second did I ever doubt your loyalty, having raised you from the start. Care to inform me where I went wrong?"

"Hilda's your niece." Miria fought to keep her anger in check.

"And a most useful bargaining chip, especially where you're concerned. You always did care for her too much," Ermita sighed. "That's why you could never beat Ophelia."

Miria's grip tightened on the phone at the mention of her fellow assassin.

"You wouldn't," she whispered unable to stop from choking out the words.

"She is my niece," Ermita reminded her. "We'll do the exchange at Paburo Park, Orsay for Hilda. Oh and I want Orsay alive. You've got two hours, Phantom before I give her to Ophelia and you know how well they get along."

The line went dead as Miria quickly accessed her outgoing call log. She didn't have long. Staff had used the call to track her location. They wanted a two for one deal with the reacquisition of Orsay and the opportunity to capture the Ghosts. Using Hilda had assured them that Miria would deliver both. The Phantom gritted her teeth and scrolling through the menu found the GPS tracking program the Ghosts had loaded onto her phone before that very first debriefing with the boss which now seemed so long ago. She would just have to return the favour. Accessing the program, Miria keyed in the number and waited impatiently as the location was found. Her screen filled with a map, a blinking dot showing Ermita's location.

Miria swore as she recognised it. He was at Hilda's place. Her phone buzzed showing a message coming from Ermita's phone log and informing her of the number he was currently dialling. Keying in the number, Miria's screen split into two maps, one showing Ermita's location and the other showing the location of the person she knew would be the leader of the Staff hit team soon to be heading to the safe house.

"The lengths you go to hide from me."

Shoving the phone out of sight, Miria turned to face Galatea who had come out onto the veranda.

"God Eye." Miria greeted her causally while steeling herself as Galatea's silver eyes inspected her figure.

The inspection was devoid of the usual signs of appreciation. There was no spark within her eyes, just a hard analytical gaze so uncharacteristic of God Eye. And in an instant it softened.

"Miria, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Sometimes she really hated how transparent the agent could make her feel, but there was too much at stake to take Galatea into her confidence. Hilda would be nothing more than a means to an end for the Ghosts. Her face betraying none of the emotions that raged within her, Miria gave Galatea a pointed look.

"Tabitha got scared," she confessed.

She realised how much she had missed Galatea's smirk as it made its reappearance. The agent laughed silently as she made her way to the railing following Miria's lead and leaning upon it with the back of her elbows.

"And she's very affectionate when scared," Galatea concluded. "But I wasn't referring to our hotel staff member."

"Then who were you referring to?" Miria asked pushing off the railing so she could face Galatea.

"What happened in Hotel Pieta, Miria?"

It was Miria's turn to laugh, her smile becoming playful.

"Far too much. I can't believe you were that fascinated by Anastasia," she teased.

"Actually, I was paying more attention to you."

Oh no. Don't you dare make this harder than it already is, Miria thought to herself. Galatea took note of the assassin's fading smile.

"What did that assassin say that made you fly into a blinding rage?" Galatea asked casually, startling Miria with the unexpected question.

Various emotions flickered across the Phantom's face before Miria regained control, her impassive mask slipping into place.

"She mentioned something about our childhood," Miria confided. She returned to the railing, gazing out at the sky that was beginning to fill with an orange tint signalling the beginning of dawn.

"I've known that assassin, Ophelia since I was three years old," she further confided. "We were trained together along with a third member."

"Is that third member alive?"

Miria's grip tightened around the railing. She wouldn't be alive much longer Miria thought. Her only chance of survival lay within a betrayal. She had to betray Galatea.

"Hilda's alive." Miria's voice shook upon saying the name of the woman she considered the most important person in her life.

"She wasn't cut out to be an assassin." Miria smiled ruefully. "So I swore to myself I would get her out of Staff. Although she was born in Staff she could never belong to that family so I made a promise that I would give her the freedom she wanted."

"And that's why you approached us." Galatea connected the pieces.

"She'd talked about a normal life," Miria smiled at the memory. "I just wanted to give her that life."

"It's a remarkably different life from what I imagine you've lead," Galatea murmured.

"I don't want to be a part of this…" Miria gestured vaguely struggling for the words. "This world anymore."

Withdrawing from the railing, Miria faced Galatea.

"I don't believe you can defeat Staff," she confessed. "That's not what I want. Once Hilda's free then I'm out. I'm not in your fight God Eye."

That analytical gaze settled upon Miria once again as Galatea pondered her words. And guilt gnawed at the assassin when all God Eye did was nod in agreement.

* * *

><p>The snapping of Raftela's phone drew Teresa's gaze from the window where she had been watching her fellow Ghost conversing with the Phantom.<p>

"We're to meet the forger within the hour," Raftela informed her. "She'll need to see the civilians face to face in order to craft new identities."

"Then you and Cynthia can make that date." Teresa ignored the look Raftela gave her.

"What are you planning?" Cynthia questioned.

"Oh, nothing yet." Teresa dismissed the question waving over her shoulder as she left the room.

Silence greeted her departure Cynthia and Raftela exchanging glances confirming that they were thinking exactly the same thing that when it came to teamwork, agents one and three played by their own rules.

* * *

><p>Shivering slightly in the cold morning chill, former receptionist Anastasia eyed the boot with trepidation as she gave the woman who had spun her world right off its tracks, a worried glance.<p>

"Are you sure he's alright?" she asked upon hearing the unmistakable thumps coming from the boot of the silver sports car. He was after all her former boss.

"I'll guarantee his safety." Galatea's reassurance rang hollow as one could hardly be expected to believe her, judging from the almost languid tone of her voice as she leant causally upon the veranda railing.

"Well until we reach headquarters," she added truthfully.

Anastasia sighed helplessly and shook her head as she absent-mindedly played with the edge of the nondescript shirt she now wore. It was strange to be wearing clothing that didn't restrict her breathing. She was thankful that she had exchanged her miniskirt for the cargo pants that now protected her against the chill of the morning.

"So…?" she asked tentatively offering a small shrug when she found herself at a loss for words.

"You can trust your driver." Galatea nodded in the direction of the stern woman who stood at the far end of the veranda. She had just finished talking to Teresa and was moving towards them.

Raftela gave Galatea a nod and reluctantly passed over the keys of her silver Honda Civic. As she walked towards the other car she glanced briefly at Anastasia. Even though it was brief, the receptionist couldn't shake the feeling that the woman had just dissected her with that single look and it was enough to make her shiver. Galatea stepped from the veranda to reassure her.

Grateful for the comforting touch upon her arm, Anastasia gave the agent what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"She'll get you to your destination," Galatea promised, the languid tone vanishing for something more sincere. "And if you don't trust her then there's always the other one."

She gestured towards Cynthia who was leaning on Yuma for support. The two of them had become inseparable since sharing the front passenger seat during the escape from Hotel Pieta. The chef had only been too keen to offer the injured medic the use of her shoulder before their arrival at the safe house where Raftela had been waiting for them.

"Yuma seems rather fond of her," Anastasia observed, noticing the tender expression upon her friend's face as she and Raftela helped Cynthia into the car.

"I wouldn't blame her," Galatea smirked. "But the two of them are far too trusting."

"Isn't that detrimental for a spy?" Anastasia turned back to the agent, her curiosity piqued.

"She was compromised from the start," Galatea answered cryptically. "But she'll get you there safely."

"And where's that?" Anastasia questioned, unable to keep the apprehensiveness out of her voice. "I don't even know the place."

Unknown to the receptionist, her fists had clenched during her admission and it was only when Galatea's hands closed around them did they uncurl. God Eye ran her thumb soothingly over Anastasia's palm as she looked past the receptionist, her gaze thoughtful.

"Toulouse," God Eye spoke, acknowledging the name with a smirk. "I think you'll like it there, it's not a bad city."

"Have you carried out a mission there?" Anastasia asked, her voice considerably more relaxed as she watched Galatea.

She didn't like the way God Eye's smirk widened as she released their hands in favour of slipping her own into the pockets of her stolen security jacket.

"Several actually," Galatea winked. "But my profession has a silly rule. All that happens within a city is to remain top secret."

Her response made Anastasia genuinely laugh and a fond look overtook her features as she took in the sight of the agent clad in the jacket of her boss's security, her tie perfectly adjusted and looking every bit a menacing guard. She would be sure to remember her much more affectionately. The thought made her smile as she realised that she didn't even know her name.

"I guess it's a national secret then," Anastasia relented. "But I don't think I want to know, especially when it concerns you."

She emphasised her words with a playful tap to Galatea's shoulder.

"Speaking of national secrets, am I allowed to know your real name Miss Rabona?"

"God Eye," Galatea answered without missing a beat and enjoying the sceptical look Anastasia gave her.

"You're joking," she accused.

"I'm being very serious," Galatea assured her. "The God bit is fairly explanatory…"

She paused to scan Anastasia's figure, while offering her that charming smile which had been responsible for utterly capturing the receptionist's infatuation.

"And I do have an Eye for the finer details."

"I've noticed," Anastasia murmured, hands clasping behind her back as she felt an uncharacteristic surge of melancholy.

"If I had known you were a spy," the receptionist stepped closer to confide, "I think I would have thought about it more, after all the trouble you've caused."

"I'd like to think that I was worth the trouble," Galatea joked bringing her out of her melancholy mood, a lighthearted expression forming upon the receptionist's face.

Standing on tip-toes to reach the agent's height, Anastasia whispered into Galatea's ear.

"You see that's precisely the problem…you were."

Still smiling, Anastasia stepped away, satisfied with being responsible for the intrigued expression now emerging on God Eye's features. She turned happily and made her way to the silver sports car, pausing at the back door. Glancing back at the agent, she farewelled her. Galatea chose to respond with a simple wave. Smile widening, Anastasia climbed into the back of the car, her thoughts firmly fixed on the woman she would find so difficult to forget.

* * *

><p>What was she expecting? Tabitha shifted from one foot to the other unable to break the sudden silence. And it seemed that Miria was also out of ideas, the assassin tracing the corners of her blackberry staring at the screen erratically. It was as if she was trying to avoid Tabitha's gaze at all costs. The former hotel staff member's shoulders slumped at the possibility. Well, there was no need to delay the inevitable. She might as well clench her teeth and say goodbye.<p>

Tabitha glanced up at Miria, a forlorn smile forming as she looked at the familiar staff uniform of Hotel Pieta. It was strange really, that Miria was wearing the uniform while she had discarded it in favour of more casual clothing. Well, at least she would get to keep this memory of the glorious way the uniform emphasised Miria's every curve. And she would remember those piercing silver eyes that stared curiously back at her having flickered up from the screen just in time to catch Tabitha's lingering stare. Oh, now she felt stupid and embarrassed. Deciding to cut her losses, Tabitha mumbled a few quick words before turning to leave.

"Tabitha." The unfamiliar sound of her name caused her to pause and look back inquiringly at Miria who had tucked her blackberry out of sight.

"I apologise," she said simply. "It was rude of me, especially considering all your help."

Removing the battered captain's cap from her head, surprise spread across Miria's face as she assessed the damage to the cap for the first time.

"Umm…" She looked so worried that it was somewhat comical. Tabitha was unable to suppress a giggle. Miria looking guiltily up at her as she gingerly held out the cap for her to take.

"I'm sorry about the damage."

"Don't worry about it." Tabitha fondly ran her hand across the battered visor. By the nervous way she ran her hand through her spiky hair it was obvious that Miria wanted to say more.

"That time, when you kissed me…" Miria broached the subject hesitantly.

Ah, she was going to bring it up, Tabitha thought dejectedly. She was going to shoot her down.

"I like you," Tabitha confessed quietly, concentrating on her fidgeting hands. "From the moment I saw you."

There was silence as Miria processed the information and when she spoke the astonishment was evident in her tone.

"I didn't know," she confessed just as softly. "Tabitha…my world…I'm not the type of person you should like…"

Her voice faded into silence again as a trembling finger was placed against her lips in an effort to stop whatever consolation she was about to voice. Shot down at point blank range and feigning cheerfulness, Tabitha still refused to look at Miria.

"I know," she said simply, a poignant smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Tabitha dropped her hand limply to her side and backed away, a sudden change coming over her features. She glanced down at the captain's cap she held. Returning Miria's remorseful look, she strode confidently back to the assassin. Stopping in front of her and twirling the cap between her fingers she startled Miria with her sudden movement as she replaced the cap upon the assassin's head. Tabitha frowned in concentration as she adjusted the angle and once satisfied with her work, she stepped back nodding approvingly. With a look as if she was imparting a vital secret and with all traces of dejection gone, Tabitha leaned forward to murmur.

"You're too caught up with _her_ to notice and I hope it works out." She gave the cap a playful tap. "But if it doesn't you know where to find me, Captain Miria."

The Phantom's eyes widened upon feeling the gentle brush of Tabitha's lips against her cheek. It was just as cautious but the awkwardness was gone. Her words left Miria confused and sensing it, Tabitha gave her an enigmatic smile as she pulled away. Without a backward glance she departed and as the doors of the silver sports car shut behind her and as the engine roared into life, Tabitha glanced back, noting that Galatea was now with Miria, the two of them watching the car as it departed. Leaning back on the seat, she avoided Anastasia's look and chose to gaze out the window. She silently wished Miria the best of luck as that relationship was going to need it.

* * *

><p>The soft kick of an engine starting up, interrupted Teresa's thoughts concerning the suspiciously milky coffee in front of her. The number one Ghost made her way to the window just in time to see the Honda Civic pull out of the drive. Oh, she knew she shouldn't have trusted Galatea with the keys. Abandoning the coffee, Teresa left the kitchen and made her way towards the meeting room where she found her fellow Ghost face down upon the couch. With an affectionate sigh, Teresa nudged her and in return elicited a muffled groan from Galatea.<p>

"Gala," she called.

Hazy eyes fought to focus on Teresa as God Eye sluggishly pulled herself up into a sitting position on the couch.

"Miria?" she asked weakly.

"Gone," Teresa confirmed. "What is it about your charm that makes women want to steal our cars?"

"She's different," Galatea informed her grumpily, squeezing her eyes closed. "Staff hit team. Be here in twenty minutes."

"Oh, that can't be good," Teresa sighed, her voice faintly muffled as she left the room.

"I really wish you would stop falling for the troublesome ones," she added upon re-entering the room carrying her shotgun and ignoring Galatea grumbling response.

Teresa crouched by the small window, her keen eyes scanning the narrow strip of light coming from veranda. There were far too many places Staff could attack from. She turned back to find that Galatea had resumed her slumped position upon the couch. Oh, well she would be getting no help from her. The number one Ghost checked her ammunition. Eight rounds all up. She would just have to improvise.

* * *

><p><em>Being at the bottom of the food chain ensured that one always got the worse jobs Staff had to offer<em>, Rado grumbled to himself as he shifted to shake the cramp in his leg. A glance at his watch showed the Phantom was due to arrive any minute. He looked back at the park bench where the slumped figure of a woman rested, her face covered with a cotton bag. He had seen her around Staff headquarters from time to time and she had seemed nice. But being nice was a one way ticket to trouble according to Staff.

A soft tread nearby brought him out of his contemplation. Rado swung his handgun around in the direction of the approaching Phantom. He stepped away from the park bench to better train his gun on the assassin. Sure, she was surrounded on all sides by hidden snipers but then it didn't hurt to be cautious. Noticing his gun, she stopped, her silver eyes seemingly gleaming in the darkness. Slung over her shoulder was the body of Orsay, bag over his head. Even as a rebel she was still following Staff procedures. He gestured with his gun for her to place the body on the ground.

"Where's Hilda?"

He indicated her slumped form with a slight nod towards the bench, and pulling the bag from her head, revealed her face as a sign of good faith. He had expected her to be sporting several bruises but her face was unmarked as if she'd just fallen asleep. The Phantom seemed to relax but that didn't mean Rado dropped his guard. His grip upon his gun tightened. It was as if she was looking for something or someone. Keeping the gun trained on her, Rado withdrew his phone from his pocket as per instructions and hit the speed dial. After several rings, the phone picked up.

"Situation?" Rado liked keeping it short.

Silence on the other end before the voice of the leader of the Staff hit team spoke.

"Ghosts secured."

A triumphant smile beamed across Rado's face as he snapped the phone shut. About damn time they got some of those pesky Ghosts.

"Well done," he taunted her. "Thanks to you we've got ourselves two Ghosts."

Rado laughed as the Phantom glared at him, the news clearly disturbing her. Pity for her that looks didn't kill, but bullets did and he was the one holding the gun. That was the problem with these assassins they always got too full of themselves thinking that they were the only ones who could deal a killing blow. But assassins were just like everybody else, easily replaced. He gestured for her to take several steps backwards away from the slumped body of Orsay. The Phantom reluctantly did as she was told. Rado stalked towards the body, crouching down to remove the bag as he spoke.

"You had to have known you couldn't walk out of here alive."

He shook his head feeling sorry for her misplaced sense of invincibility and with a simple hand gesture signalled for the hidden snipers to open fire.

* * *

><p>The hum of a disconnected line sounded in her ear. Rachel glowered as she snapped the phone shut and tossed it away as instructed, well aware of the shotgun aimed point blank range at her face. Her entire team lay scattered in various states of unconsciousness around the safe house. They had been utterly unprepared for the two occupants. Rachel inwardly cussed as this was a colossal failure and Staff would have her head for it. After all it had been eleven members of Staff's elite against two Ghosts.<p>

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Rachel's face as she looked down the barrel, grinding her teeth at the sight of the woman with her finger on the trigger. How the hell was she not showing any signs of exhaustion? Damn it, she didn't even have a single strand of her black, wavy hair out of place. And her silver eyes mockingly stared through her which only added to Rachel's building rage.

"You gonna pull that trigger or are you too half-assed to finish the job?" Rachel taunted.

A thoughtful expression appeared upon the woman's seemingly blank face, the shotgun noticeably lowering a few inches as her eyes began to scan the bullet riddled room taking in the bodies of Rachel's team. A slender finger was pointed at the first body.

"One," the woman muttered, her finger pointing to the second body slumped besides the first.

"Two," she continued, beginning to navigate the room glancing at each of the fallen bodies in turn.

"Three, Four, Five," the woman counted indicating each of the bodies as she tallied them up.

She bypassed the two bodies slumped by the door which, gingerly hanging from it hinges, stubbornly refused to fall despite the bullet holes that had ripped through the wood.

"Six, Seven, Eight." The woman finished with the body count, tapping her chin now her inspection was complete, her eyes settling upon Rachel.

A small exclamation of understanding escaped her lips as she made her way back to the last standing member of the hit team which had come to kill her. Casually she swung the shotgun inches from Rachel's face, the barest of smiles forming as her prey noticeably stiffened. Meeting her gaze with the most defiant glare she could muster, Rachel spat upon the barrel. If she was going to die there was no way in hell she was going to grovel. The erratic beating of her own heart filled Rachel's ears as the woman tilted the barrel to the side to inspect the small trail of spit on the gleaming hot metal. Try as she might Rachel's defiance began to significantly wane and she began to shake as the barrel was placed against her shoulder. The Ghost used Rachel's shirt to wipe the spit away as she leaned to whisper close in her ear.

"Nine."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut waiting for the end, only it never came. The Staff member cracked open one eye and was greeted by silver eyes brimming with playful confidence. The now clean shotgun was casually swung back over her shoulder and her free hand had formed into the imitation of a hand gun. Upon seeing that Rachel's eyes were open, the woman mimed a firing action and when Rachel flinched she missed the fingers curling into a fist that struck out with such force it knocked her out cold.

A groan accompanied Rachel's body slamming to the floor. Teresa glanced disinterestedly over her shoulder at the bullet riddled couch that threatened to give way at any given moment.

"Gala," Teresa greeted her. She made her way over to the couch and nudged her fellow Ghost with the barrel of her shotgun. "Shove."

Galatea obliged with a groan and now curled up against the corner of the couch, allowed Teresa to join her, the sofa remarkably managing to support their combined weight despite its current condition. Teresa discarded her empty shotgun on the frame of the coffee table, the glass having been smashed in the battle. Taking a look around the damaged room, Teresa casually watched the light fixture crumble and smash to the floor amidst the litter of bodies and shell casings.

"You know you could have picked a better time to have a hangover." Teresa broke the silence, her tone conversational as she slipped the blackberry from her pocket. It was still tracking the leader of the Staff hit squad.

Switching the phone off, she handed it back to Galatea who took it as she placed her head within her hands before allowing another stream of grumbles to escape her lips. Several hours after the event, drinking a full bottle of Chivas Regal seemed like a very stupid idea considering the massive hangover she was now experiencing which itself had not been helped by the gunfight that had rudely jolted her from her sleep. She looked up irritably as a loud crash sent a jolt of pain through her head. The door, finally surrendering, crashed to the floor, Teresa and Galatea observing its fall. The early morning sunlight shone through the now gaping space.

"The things you do to impress a woman," Teresa murmured, her eyes upon her own phone as she dialled Irene's number.

* * *

><p>This wasn't going to plan. Something had gone wrong. Instead of falling to the floor dead, the Phantom was approaching him. Rado signalled again for his men to fire, cursing when the Phantom's approach hardly slowed and no gunshots rang throughout the quiet park. As he tried to bring his own gun level, his arm was twisted painfully up against his back. The gun fell from his grip as the Phantom, upon seeing the potential threat and had swiftly moved in to disarm him.<p>

Keeping a firm hold upon his arm, Miria flicked the safety on and reached towards the Staff member's ear, her hands finding the small earpiece. Rado froze as he felt the gun brush against his skin as she switched the earpiece on. Static greeted him. A sudden realisation dawned on him as the Phantom switched the frequency to another hidden sniper. Static once again, the trend continuing as the Phantom unhurriedly tuned into every sniper's frequency. Switching to the final frequency, Rado was greeted with muffled noises that seemed far too loud and close to his own position. He indentified the cause with a sinking feeling his gaze lowering to take in the body of Orsay lying on the ground in front him. A slight twitch of Orsay's bound hands showed he had just awoken and with a nod of encouragement from the Phantom, Rado lifted the bag from his head to confirm his suspicions. It wasn't Orsay. A gag was firmly over his mouth and the man was still trying to speak perhaps trying to explain why he was so far from his position, his weapon nowhere to be seen.

"When did you take down the snipers?"

Rado had to know, but the Phantom wasn't in the mood to tell, the gun hitting the side of his head and knocking him unconscious.

* * *

><p>Departing under the faint light of a single streetlamp was not the way Cynthia had envisioned saying goodbye to the nervous chef who had managed to endear herself to her in such a short time. Realising they had begun to speak together they stopped abruptly before sharing a quiet laugh to cover their embarrassment. Yuma glanced at her shyly.<p>

"You go first," she murmured playing with the strands of her hair feeling uneasy now that she was no longer wearing her chef's hat.

She missed that hat, but she knew that she would miss the woman beside her so much more considering all they had shared. Life had changed for her, but the thought of being parted from Cynthia had dulled her excitement at the possibility of a new future.

"I'm sorry." The sincerity in Cynthia's tone brought a smile to Yuma's face.

"Don't be. I'm really glad I met you," Yuma assured her, the grin vanishing from her face as she realised her words.

Blushing deeply, the chef rushed to clarify herself.

"Umm…No…it was…nice meeting you…that's not what I meant no! I don't mean it like that…Oh, forget it…Of course I'm glad I met you! Meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me!" She ended her struggle in a crescendo, completely red faced.

Shutting her eyes and feeling like an absolute fool, Yuma gathered the courage to tentatively crack open one eye to see Cynthia giving her that amused look the chef thought made the medic seem quite breathtaking. She tensed as Cynthia's hand moved forward to gently touch the single strand of hair that hung in front of her face.

"Likewise," Cynthia murmured, her lips turning upwards to form a smile as her hand left the strand.

She withdrew a small folded piece of paper from her jacket.

"This will get you entry to the forger's place." She pointed towards the apartment block that loomed above them where Anastasia and Tabitha were waiting for Yuma in the entrance foyer. "She lives in number fifteen. She'll be grumpy when you knock but give her this and she'll calm right down. We called her ahead of time so she should be half awake by now."

Cynthia held out the paper. As the chef reached for it she accidently brushed her hand against the medic's fingers. Cynthia didn't pull away from the touch, the thin paper the only thing separating their fingers as neither moved.

"I'm glad I met you too." Cynthia whispered the words softly, sending a new onslaught of red to Yuma's cheeks.

They were so close, if she just leaned forward, the chef knew that she could grant the medic a goodbye kiss just like she'd seen in all those movies. But she didn't have the courage and the words Cynthia had just spoken were enough. Yuma drew the paper away, her fingers leaving Cynthia's as the chef retreated a respectful distance. The soft tread of Cynthia's feet on the pavement caused her to look up. The medic was heading back in the direction of the car parked on the opposite side of the street.

"Wait," Yuma called softly. Cynthia stopped to look back at her.

"I'll see you again?" she called. Yuma inwardly berated herself for making it sound like a question rather than a promise.

"Who knows?" Cynthia replied adding to the frustration of her vague answer with a mysterious smile.

"The world works in strange ways, kid."

With those words she climbed into the car as Raftela started the engine.

"Finished?" the integrator asked.

"All finished," Cynthia replied. "Let's go deliver Orsay to the boss and find some damn painkillers."

Nodding in agreement, Raftela eased the car from the kerb. And like the cool detective Yuma had envisioned her to be, Cynthia never looked back.

* * *

><p>It had been clear from the conversations she had shared with Hilda that her friend had entertained the thought of escaping from Staff ever since their early teens. Miria was unable to stop the smile that formed as she gazed at her sleeping friend from her position by the door. Hilda was free and Miria vowed to do everything in her power to make it stay that way. And all those plans she had talked to her about? Hilda could finally put those into action.<p>

Miria's smile turned more poignant. Freedom had come at a cost. Miria gently closed the bedroom door to allow Hilda to sleep in private. Making her way to the living room of the flat, the assassin pulled out the stolen iphone. She perched on the edge of the couch as she focused her attention on the blank screen. The iphone brought back memories of its owner as she turned it on and keyed in the security code.

She waited apprehensively as Galatea's phone loaded, the phone company logo greeting her. Leaning back into the couch, the assassin drew her knees up and rested her chin upon them as she brought the phone closer. Her smile vanished as she glanced at the far end of the couch. Empty, of course. She wouldn't be here. The phone buzzed, startling the assassin as the screen informed her that she had an incoming call. Accepting the call, Miria was unable to stop the relief that overcame her as the caller greeted her.

"If my phone was that desirable you could have just asked and I would have given it to you, or we could have bargained for something in exchange."

Resisting the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips upon hearing Galatea's voice, Miria greeted her softly.

"And what would that something be?"

Silence on Galatea's line as she pondered the question.

"Another round?" Galatea suggested. Miria shook her head affectionately knowing where God Eye was heading.

"With the door locked this time," God Eye added.

"Mmm," Miria contemplated the offer. "I'll think about it, although it will depend on whether or not your next phone is worth stealing."

"Well, there are far more interesting things you could steal," Galatea murmured suggestively.

"To think I was worried about you," Miria sighed.

"I think you gave me enough incentive to survive." Galatea paused as Irene's voice was heard in the background. "Although, I've got no complaints with the methods you used to get me to go along with your little plan, I rather enjoyed them. So is she safe? The boss wants to know."

Ignoring the agent's words, Miria looked towards the closed bedroom door.

"Mission accomplished. Hilda's safe."

"Well, I'm sure you're dying to steal her phone so I better leave you two alone." Galatea's tone betrayed a hint of displeasure.

"Are you angry?" Miria couldn't stop the smile that formed as she voiced the question.

Oh, how she wished she could see Galatea's expression right now. For all her talk of jealously, God Eye was now sounding as if she was suffering from a huge dose of it. Or perhaps it was hurt pride. Miria suddenly felt the need to assure Galatea that what had happened in the kitchen wasn't a manipulation on her part. Even if the absurd idea of seduction had crossed her mind, the assassin was sure that the minute the flirting had started the idea would have been replaced by a much stronger emotion and…she was going to end that thought right there. Miria turned her attention back to the phone aware that Galatea was speaking again.

"I might be feeling a bit angry at myself," Galatea admitted. "I usually know where your hands are, but then the skirt did require immediate attention. Miria, you're becoming quite the opportunist."

"It's your bad influence," Miria shot back, all thoughts of coming clean with her epiphany vanishing.

"Oh, then perhaps I could influence you to take off…"

The rest of God Eye's reply was interrupted by Irene reprimanding her agent for the inappropriate use of the base telephone. Exchanging goodbyes, Galatea ended the call. Miria shook her head with amusement, the affectionate smile still upon her face. She really felt sorry for Irene having to constantly deal with Galatea. Turning back to the phone to switch it off, Miria's smile faulted upon seeing for the first time the agent's wallpaper. A familiar face was staring back at her, and looking very serious indeed. Miria's grip upon the phone tightened. When had Galatea taken that? All traces of a smile were wiped from the assassin's face as she continued to stare at her own photo. Why the hell was her picture being used as God Eye's wallpaper?


	10. Chapter 10

Bar Mucha

* * *

><p>AN: My apologies for the disappearing act. It's been quite some time. I would like to thank the readers and reviewers who have continued to support this.

In my absence I have managed to scrape together some semblance of a plot and would like to extend a thank you to Drifting Reader for helping me with a particularly stubborn part which will appear in the upcoming arc.

Hopefully, I can work to this vague plan and finish off the fic but for now here's a long overdue update.

Warning: This chapter is long, it follows well in its author's footsteps and falls firmly in the realm of the verbose.

Anon Viewer Z: Thank you for the review. I well and truly chickened out at the end of that last chapter and went for the happy ending. I just couldn't think of Miria as evil. No comment on the twins aka they'll probably appear somewhere, I have no idea. Oh, that dreaded kitchen scene, I still can't believe I wrote that as you're well aware romance is not my strong point. Why did I tag this as romance again? Glad you mentioned the Teresa scene it was a little homage to I think a similar scene in the manga. Audrey and Galatea? I have no idea what you're implying =). As for Cassandra actually appearing in the fic, well I'm trying, she'll make her entrance soon. Once again, thanks for commenting.

E: Yay! Thank you for your review.

Not Sure: Update was in limbo due to the horrific scaring incurred upon re-reading chapter nine. It's taken nearly a year and more to get over it. Thank you for your review.

Guest: It's extremely late, but here's the update. Thank you for reviewing.

Guest: Thank you for reviewing and for taking the time to create an account. I'm very happy and grateful that this crazy fic has made your list. Glad the characters are working out for you as I'm taking quite some liberties with them. Oh, its very late but Galatea would like to thank you for the praise and to inform you that she is well aware that she is the best damn thing in this fic, Miria aside. Thank you for your review, love ya too.

Guest: Unfortunately, writer's block had the final say. Here's the very very late update. Thank you for your review.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything and after this chapter you'll all be thankful that's the case.

* * *

><p>Perhaps the warning signs were glaringly obvious as the greeting that followed the opening of the door to room number six had gone unanswered. This, along with the tightly clutched phone in her hand really should have sent the alarm bells ringing but absence, however brief, dulled the senses with a certain fondness. Or it might have been the pressing matter of the rather expensive overtime fees these love hotels charged that led to the far too jovial disregard for the glaringly obvious. For as the victim swung the door open and cheerfully announced their arrival the spiky haired woman, the lone occupant of the room sprang into action. Never before had an iphone sailed through the air with such precision hitting the target square between the eyes.<p>

Job done the improvised weapon fell to the floor, the outstretched peace offering within the target's hands following. Confused silver eyes regarded their companion whose gaze was growing more murderous with each passing second. In a single blink, the held gaze was broken. The now fuming woman stomped forward, her boots crushing down upon the remnants of what had once been a bouquet of her favourite red roses. It was surprising really and a tad annoying that between the time of their last phone call and the seconds it had taken to exit the lift and walk to the hotel door, her temperamental mood had flared to such a degree. But then that was the price of her company and the very thing that made life with her so damn exciting. She grabbed a fist full of the newly ironed shirt, the material cushioning her knuckles and executed a vicious uppercut.

"Unforgivable! This is unforgiveable. After everything, you go and betray me. Explain yourself!"

"I'd rather you go first."

The offended tone managed to mask the inner thoughts that couldn't help but wonder if this whole nightly rendezvous was proving to be a rather expensive failure. But that was the least of their worries as the iphone had been retrieved and was now dangerously close to leaving a second bruise as she brandished it forward.

"What is this?" she demanded gesturing wildly, her voice lacking its usual monotone.

"It's a phone?"

Perhaps it was the accumulation of bruises that temporarily waylaid common sense as eyes widened in recognition; the following words doing little to improve the current situation.

"Oh, isn't that my phone?"

A single glare from those silver eyes still locked upon their prey seemed to have been designed purely to inform the recipient that they would not be leaving the room alive. She angrily punched in the phone's security code, and as the screen loaded, with a flick of the wrist she displayed the source of her anger.

"And what is this?"

The cause of an early death if the current circumstances continued and probably not the smartest answer to the question as one of her hands had re-established its grip upon the shirt.

"It's a photograph…of you."

"And what is it doing as your wallpaper?"

At this point in the conversation, honesty was the only option for survival but such grim odds had never particularly mattered before. In these circumstances honesty was of little use when confidence could serve as a much more preferred substitute. The smile widened a fraction to show impeccably white teeth.

"It was the only one of you I could find."

"Why would you want my picture as your wallpaper?"

Why, was such a tricky question to answer, as the endless possibilities led towards an unsavoury conclusion, possibly a straight plunge off the closest cliff that despite the jump was managing to look quite appealing.

"If you really need to know it's quite simple…"

For when in doubt take the direct approach by prying her rigid hand from its grip upon the shirt just as the good defence handbook says. The next step is optional, but being an opportunist is second nature and she reacts on cue as if the gentle massage being applied to her whitened knuckles is definitely not at all in any way soothing.

"It's because I can't stop thinking about you."

From the mind to the mouth in less than a second and all due to a brief flirtation with the idea there could be so much more between them. But from the narrowing of her eyes it seems the consensus isn't entirely mutual as she is probably beginning to find the idea of slapping some sense into someone who clearly needs it downright enticing.

Her fingers left the entwined hold to trail gently over the face in front of her. The once murderous gaze softened as with eyes downcast she leaned forward to whisper to her captive audience.

"Until you turn off your phone and I can't reach you."

This was undeniably the wrong time for her to discover just how damn good it felt to be the cause of the disappointed gaze that was levelled at her.

"I was working."

"Oh, I believe you."

The menu upon the phone was accessed. The folder labelled pictures selected and opened to reveal the image of a tall blonde gazing seductively over her bare shoulder in the direction of the camera. The photo that followed was of the same woman only this time she had traded her lacy lingerie for a red bikini.

"So do you shuffle your wallpaper or just change it on a daily basis?"

It was unfair really all the more so as the fight response was oh so predicable but it was somewhat impressive how fluid the movement seemed, how arms encircled her waist as if the only way she could be placated was through the invasion of her personal space.

"Those are work related. You know what my job is."

"Even this one?"

She almost felt sorry as the arms released their hold. A defeated sigh followed upon seeing the picture displayed. She was looking forward to the explanation concerning the identity of the owner of the very impressive abs shown in the photo.

"He's just a model I met."

"When you were working?"

"I don't think you're in a position to complain considering what you brought home."

Mere hours ago, the accusation would have sent her into an indignant rage but she was working on her anger management and was never going to rise to the bait of someone's scorn especially not when it contained a vital clue. And this person in front of her would always prove to be the exception to the rules, if they still played by them, for emotions beyond rage and indifference become truly messy concepts when it comes to trying to understand them.

"Is this what this is about? Are you still brooding over the time I brought my friend home for dinner?"

A sudden interest in the contents of the room was enough to confirm her suspicions because for them to have lasted thirty minutes of the booked two hours without trying to speedily undress each other must be a new record. It made their current location amusing but then again their selected room's theme and name did more to confuse than excite. It was truly terrible taste that of all the options offered at a love hotel to have picked the only one with nearly sub zero temperatures. But she knew that it made them more compatible which was just as obvious as knowing that the igloo forming the main attraction of the room didn't usually come with an inbuilt sound system that had steadily played a slow romantic piece throughout their confrontation.

"You were all over him."

To think further would surely exhaust her brain and she would like to forget that she was partly responsible for the situation as she gets dreadfully over protective at times but then again they are so very similar.

Her arms encircled a suddenly tense neck, the light from the phone's screen fading as sometimes it is better to remain in the dark about some things. Or at least put up a temporary pretence.

"Why didn't you just tell me you were jealous?"

When and where, the remote was acquired would remain a mystery but as the lights dimmed to give way to the changing mood lights that splashed their colours across the walls of the igloo bringing the structure to life, she found she didn't really care. The tempo of the music increased as arms returned to their position around her waist. The climax of the piece approached, the orchestra surged towards the finale, the lovers moved to kiss and as the cymbals built towards their crescendo with a smash, the door flew open, a lone figure executing a perfect commando roll into the room.

"Freeze! Put your hands where I can see 'em!"

The gun and the sudden light in the room that clashed horribly with the still flashing mood lights killed their moment. The intruder shared a confused look with their backup who upon holstering her weapon identified their suspect with a hesitant question.

"Isley?"

"Flora." He greeted the woman by the door as the arms around his neck painfully tightened.

"Helen."

He would have nodded in the direction of Flora's partner but the tender hold of moments before had turned into an iron vice-like grip. The two Ghosts appeared to be aware of his situation, Helen holstering her gun with a sheepish look as she scratched the back of her neck looking for something to say.

"So…" Helen paused taking in their position. "Didn't you two break up?"

Sometimes there were days when Isley felt the world pulled him out of bed for the sole purpose of knocking him down hours later. His now ex-girlfriend shoved him backwards. She returned to the bed to pick up her handbag and slinging it over her shoulder she reached for the nearby pillow sending it flying towards him.

"Priscilla, please don't be like this."

A second pillow ended negotiations, Priscilla moving with her incredible speed to reclaim the first. She swung it towards Isley who ducked out of the way.

"Let me explain, Priscilla."

Unable to duck the next blow, as Priscilla had now adjusted to her new weapon, Isley further implored her, his arms keeping the ensuring volley of hits at bay.

"Priscilla, can we talk about this?"

"Who the hell are these brazen women? Are they models you just happen to know?"

The second pillow which had remained on the floor was kicked in the direction of the Ghosts with startling accuracy and as an enraged Priscilla rounded on them the two abandoned the mission sprinting for the exit. The door slammed shut just in time to block Priscilla's attempt at a head shot. Exchanging looks, Helen shrugged in response to Flora's silent question of just what the hell was going on. They turned in unison as a particularly loud thump sounded behind them, the door rattling in response. As the thumping continued, the one thing keeping them safe but sure to fall at any moment, realisation crossed the diva's features. The shaking hand of Agent Apple confirmed her fears. Helen reached forward to touch the room number upon the still shaking door. Guiding the number upwards, the two Ghosts inwardly swore as the nine formed a six. Helen was unable to stop from voicing their failure.

"Damn, wrong room."

* * *

><p>For all her multiple faults she was proving surprisingly punctual mused Miria glancing down at her watch to see the time. It was just seven in the morning, about thirty minutes since she had checked out of the hotel opposite. The same hotel into which God Eye, followed closely by Teresa, had just bolted seconds before. So, the chase was still on then. Miria nervously twirled the car keys in her hand unable to stop her gaze from drifting back to the entrance of the hotel.<p>

There was just one busy street between them. At least she would know exactly when God Eye left, as the hotel's only exit point could be observed from the windows of the convenience store she was hiding in. The store was also a couple of shops down the street which would give her time to make her escape the second she saw the agent. Miria jumped as she felt the familiar vibrations from her phone and answering the call she heard Hilda's worried voice.

"Are they already there?" Hilda skipped the formalities. "This is dangerous, what if you're caught?"

"They just went in," Miria updated her. "Don't worry, Hilda, I'll be leaving soon."

"Their response time is getting too quick," Hilda further worried. "I should be with you. Why did you make me go on ahead?"

"Because…" Miria dropped into a sudden crouch, her gaze now level with the biscuits placed on the middle shelf of the aisle in which she had been loitering. "You're my first priority and I'll be careful not to get caught."

"Will I ever know just who happens to be chasing you?"

Before she could reply there was movement at the entrance of the hotel, God Eye and Teresa exiting onto the sidewalk, the two agents glancing around before disappearing down the ramp that led to the underground parking for the hotel. Miria watched their progress from the gap offered between the wafers and cookies, the assassin quickly having removed the chocolate biscuits obscuring her view. The agents out of sight, Miria quickly made her way to the check-out pausing to grab some milk on the way. She placed her two purchases on the counter.

"Will that be all Miss?" the young man on the counter asked. Miria quickly removed from her pocket a small note upon which was written a symbol formed by four strokes.

It bore a resemblance to a cross with its two added strokes pointing diagonally upwards from both ends of the single horizontal stroke. Quickly hiding the note from sight, the man gave her an awkward nod of acknowledgement before stiffly walking away towards the back of the store. Miria watched him go, ever so slightly amused before she quickly glanced towards the window that offered her a view of the entrance to the hotel car park.

"Is whoever chasing you the owner of that credit card?" Hilda had taken the silence from Miria's end as a sign of reluctance. She was now changing tactics and in a direction that was making Miria decidedly unsettled.

"Hilda, we had no choice but to use the card." Miria checked the window again. No sign of her yet.

"I know and I'm beginning to think they know that too." A touch of suspicion had entered Hilda's voice. "It's strange that they're yet to cancel that card. As if they'll let you get away with everything."

"Once we leave the city, I'll leave it behind," Miria promised hoping that would be enough to make Hilda drop the subject. "Now that you're fine, we don't need to stay in this city anymore."

He had returned. A single pack of Marlboro cigarettes along with a lighter were placed besides the biscuits and milk. The man began adding up her purchases.

"One more night Hilda, that's all."

After tonight, Hilda could finally begin anew. Miria gave the man a nod to his offer of cash out, the Phantom whispering the amount she required before turning to the window again. Hilda's voice drew her back to the conversation.

"Why do I think you're talking about leaving behind more than just the credit card? What was the Rabona girl's name…Hysteria?"

"No, it's not." Miria inwardly winced at how quickly she had reacted to correct Hilda, the following questions confirming just how badly she'd messed up.

"She's…" Miria gripped the phone torn between revealing all that was on her mind or just the barest of details. She stepped away from the counter, her voice barely a whisper as she admitted.

"She's an agent working to bring down Staff."

"That's suicide." Hilda paused, a small gasp escaping as the information sunk in. Sometimes Miria hated just how easy it was for her friend to read her.

"Miria." Hilda spoke her name gently. "Oh, Miria you…you can't save everybody you meet. People will follow their own path. This … you can't distract her with this forever."

"If you ever met her you'd be surprised," Miria murmured, a slight smile forming as she continued. "She's gets distracted by everything. I mean any girl who crosses her line of sight. I don't know just how she survives in her profession."

"Reminds me of someone I know," Hilda teased. "Someone who relocates the people she is sent to kill and worries over the people who could potentially cause her harm. Miria, you have to admit you're a terrible assassin."

"That's why I'll be happy to leave it all behind."

The call from the counter for payment drew her attention, Miria returning to find her purchases already packed within a bag.

"We're sticking to the plan then?" Hilda asked waiting for the affirmative. "Whatever happens, Miria, just make it back safe."

Hilda ended the call upon hearing Miria's reply while the assassin finally giving her full attention to the counter assistant, searched within her pocket for the payment. Miria swiped the credit card before imputing Galatea's pin. Really when she had first tried the combination she had expected the card to bounce. For surely, the numbers of the security lock on her phone couldn't be identical to those for her pin. A long list of purchases later, Miria had come to the conclusion that they were, the assassin just wishing that certain details of her assignment had been just as truthful. The Phantom looked towards the entrance of the hotel a final time before exiting the convenience store and making her escape.

* * *

><p><strong>Four Weeks Earlier<strong>

The art of touch typing was a skill Dietrich couldn't help but curse at acquiring. Her fingers rapidly tapped upon the keyboard as she flawlessly narrowed down the location of the current assignment, while her eyes that should have remained upon the screen strayed towards her gathered comrades. The art of selective indifference was a far more useful skill, she noted slightly envious as she took in the appearance of their number three. Galatea leisurely leaned back in her chair as she chatted away on the phone to the Phantom completely ignorant of the growing tension across from her.

Maybe it was a defence mechanism the hacker reasoned as the fourth and final occupants of the room were just as unperturbed. Teresa had hardly glanced up from the notes she was scribbling. The rhythm of her pen only pausing as the number one Ghost entered some figures into the calculator by her side. As for Elizabeth, her gaze remained fixated upon the large image board that took up the majority of the wall of their conference room. Sprinkled with pictures of the various tangled strands that formed the web and overall heart of Staff's operations, Dietrich knew that her comrade was looking beyond the organisation's hierarchy and was far more focused on the edges of the unknown.

For to the side of the board, its influence on and connection to Staff unknown, was the photo of the one whom Elizabeth had spent the last week trying and failing to track down. The wildcard who, if given the chance would happily wreak havoc on all their carefully laid plans. For chaos and vanishing acts were two things that Roxanne excelled at and Dietrich was willing to bet that even with the assembled heads of Staff involved, the Chameleon would prove a far greater threat. But that was the danger of their profession, the hacker mused, a profession in which dangers could come from any direction and in any form. Dietrich jumped in her seat as her boss's coffee cup was forcefully reunited with its saucer.

"Would you stop flirting and get to the matter at hand, God Eye."

Irene's outburst had brought the simmering tension to the full boil. She had practically growled out her order, the tone enough to finally draw the attention of Galatea only for the agent to shoot the boss a chastising look at having interrupted her in such a manner and just when the conversation was heading in a more favourable direction. Irene countering her agent's disappointment with a look that would cut through steel, the added gesture with her fingers making it very clear that it would be wise for God Eye to start asking the Phantom more pertinent questions.

But warnings were just one of the many things Galatea was especially good at ignoring so the agent carried on undaunted as if the conversation had never been interrupted. Her next comment aimed at reminding the Phantom of the rather memorable moment in a certain kitchen, brought the beginnings of a faint smile to Teresa's face as if the number one Ghost had just recalled something incredibly amusing.

For Phantom Miria was currently unaware that the entire phone conversation she was sharing with Galatea was currently being broadcast for all within the conference room to hear. And with a front row insight into the dynamics of what was turning out to be a very complex relationship between her agent and a still untrustworthy assassin, Irene was beginning to regret her request for God Eye to put the call on speaker.

"So is she safe? The boss wants to know."

Remarkably, God Eye brought the conversation back to the most pressing matter at hand. Irene blinked in surprise as her thoughts now turned to places where they had no business to be as the possibilities of just what had happened between God Eye and the Phantom that had Teresa so terribly amused were suddenly endless and probably highly unsavoury.

"Mission accomplished. Hilda's safe." Phantom Miria's voice resounded loud and clear through the room's newly upgraded speaker system.

With her duty to the boss fulfilled, Galatea was now free to derail the conversation and the further it continued, the clearer it became to Irene that this was one mission debrief in which she was regretting hearing the details at first hand. For Irene really didn't want to know the questionable methods that Galatea employed in order to gain the Phantom's trust.

The assassin's voice sounded again over the speakers, the Phantom having taken offence to something the agent had said and a look confirmed that Galatea was delighted with the hostile reaction. The mere prospect of watching Agent God Eye further endear herself to the Phantom was now the sole cause of the headache that announced itself with a vengeance, Irene cradling her now aching forehead in her hands.

A faint beep sounded from the monitor behind her, the boss truly thankful for the distraction as she gave her chair a very restrained twirl, her gaze now level with Dietrich. The hacker tapped upon the screen to enlarge the blinking location of the phone as the beep had announced the completion of the trace. Although sometimes, Irene lamented as she recognised the very familiar location, blessings were curses in disguise.

Taking deep breaths as she called upon the teachings from that mediation seminar she had attended last month, Irene slowly swung her chair in the direction of her agent just in time to catch the start of what could only be a suggestive comment from God Eye. _Why_, Irene silently despaired as she rose from her chair and made her way over to her distracted agent.

_Why couldn't that damn woman learn that mission debriefs were not the time nor the conference room the place for such activities_. Although to her credit, Galatea caught on surprisingly quickly and ended the call with a quick goodbye as Irene, inches from her face hissed the following words.

"What the hell is the Phantom doing in your flat?"

"Well…," Galatea sought to explain herself as diplomatically as possible, the now guilty looking agent finding it difficult to remain focused with Irene so close.

"Would you like me to call Miria again so you can ask her?"

Taking Irene's sharply inhaled breath to be an agreement to her suggestion, Galatea gave the phone in her hand a small twirl before presenting it to the boss who made no move to claim it. Shrugging at the lack of a response, she slipped the phone into the front pocket of the blouse Irene wore and with a longer pat than was necessary to confirm it was secure, God Eye tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Irene's pointy ear to allow her to whisper unhindered.

"I'm sure it won't be too difficult. After all I'm quite certain you've got my number on speed dial."

A slight tap to the phone in Irene's pocket emphasised her point. Galatea headed for the door, her hand reaching for the doorknob only to stop upon hearing her boss's inquiry.

"Are you late to your rendezvous with the Phantom?"

Slipping both her hands into the pockets of her stolen security jacket, God Eye turned to face her boss, a smirk upon her face.

"I do have to go home eventually," she murmured. "But if you're offering your own place as an alternative then I could possibly reconsider."

"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Irene ground out through gritted teeth. "Do you know what you've done?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'm about to find out."

"You've just removed the only guarantee of the Phantom's help," Irene informed her. "Getting the niece of Ermita out of Staff was the only condition she would agree to."

Storming over to the board, Irene ripped the photo of the now ruined safe house from its place and threw it down the table towards Galatea.

"I gave you two specific missions. The most important was to shadow the Phantom, not to be manipulated into endangering everything on the oft chance it will finally allow you to jump into bed with her."

"You have cost us quite a bit of leverage, Gala." Teresa spoke up, her gaze flickering from their fuming boss to God Eye as she assessed the possibility of things turning even more heated.

"Not to mention, Gala, I'm still shocked." Teresa's tone had changed to one of hurt, the number one placing a hand dramatically over her heart.

"Shocked that you didn't inform me the Phantom has a key to our place."

"I never authorised your request to help the Phantom," Irene pointedly reminded them, her patience now paper thin as she sent a glare in Teresa's direction not at all appreciating the interruption.

"Not only did the two of you ignore my orders and carry out your own mission, you've more than proven yourselves capable of indiscretions that severely impact upon the outcomes of ongoing missions."

"Impact the outcomes of ongoing missions?" Galatea shot back. "Perhaps if you had given me all the information I needed I would have acted more accordingly."

"Do you really think that I assigned you to secure her trust just for her skills?" Irene's glare was now firmly targeting Galatea.

"The only reason I allowed you anywhere near the Phantom was to extract the location of Operation Claymore. That electronic pad you secured was useless. Apart from the photo, we know nothing and if you had done your job I would have informed you of just why it was so damn important!"

"Miria, knows about Operation Claymore?" Galatea asked softly. Irene scoffed at her agent's response.

"The Phantom is our only link to finding out just what the hell it's all about. So, you better damn well hope you made an impression.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Irene." Galatea's smirk had lost all traces of its usual smugness.

"For despite getting exactly what she wanted Miria is still sticking to the rendezvous we discussed. She's still got my phone which she knows we can damn well track but that's the thing about her that's so incredibly easy to exploit. She trusts me because somewhere in between capturing Orsay and allowing her to rescue Hilda I might have impressed her, which makes my current assignment done. Feel free to interrogate her."

"That might be a bit complicated," Dietrich interrupted, her eyes now fixed upon her monitor as she furiously typed upon the keyboard.

"I don't mean to get in the way of your conversation, but the Phantom's on the move."

"What do you mean she's on the move?" Irene demanded. She was quickly by Dietrich's side, the three other Ghosts following.

Displayed upon the monitor was the map of the district where Galatea's flat was located, the small red blinking dot identifying the phone's location. The address above it changed as the dot moved away from the building at a rapid pace.

"That wasn't part of the plan," Galatea protested as the four Ghosts turned towards her demanding an explanation.

"Dietrich," Irene commanded. "Track her and send me the location."

The boss strode towards the door issuing orders as she went.

"Teresa, you're with me. Elizabeth…Orsay should be en route. Just make sure Raftela leaves him with something to talk with. You're in charge until my return."

Yanking the door open, Irene addressed Galatea over her shoulder, refusing to spare her even a glance.

"You can consider yourself suspended and confined to base. Just sit there and don't do anything. I don't want our agents to be further exposed by your stupidity."

With a final call for Teresa to follow, Irene strode from the room, the door slamming behind her. Sensing it would be unwise to keep her waiting, Teresa gathered her things and was half way out the door when she turned back to address Galatea.

"Oh…Just a quick question about the key. Did the Phantom steal that before or after your little moment in the kitchen?"

"Don't you have a wild Irene to contend with?" Galatea reminded her. "I think I hear her screaming."

"I guess she would if I ever told her that our little Gala was lying about a certain someone." Teresa's enigmatic smile widened, the number one tapping upon her ring finger.

"Do you need help getting through that door?" Galatea snapped, her mood further soured as Teresa's provocation had made her glance quickly towards her own hand and the engagement ring that still rested upon her finger.

Elizabeth and Dietrich glanced up from the monitor as the sound of the door banging shut echoed throughout the conference room, Galatea having slammed it in Teresa's victorious face. God Eye hid the diamond channel from sight with a turn of the ring as she leant against the now closed door fighting to regain her control that Teresa had so easily shaken.

"Galatea," Elizabeth cautiously addressed her, gesturing for her to take a look at the monitor. "You might want to see this."

Pushing off the door, Galatea made her way across the room and glancing disinterestedly at the monitor, found her disinterest giving way to intrigue.

"Is that…?"

"The Phantom just headed straight into it," Elizabeth confirmed. This drew a grunt from Dietrich who was unable to share in her comrade's sudden interest as she complained.

"It's the worst place she could have gone into. The number of buildings crammed in there, not to mention the ones that aren't even listed, makes it impossible to get her exact location."

"Not if you know the territory," Galatea smirked, unintentionally leaning closer for a better view of the screen.

Confirming her train of thought, Galatea turned to Dietrich unfazed by their sudden closeness. As God Eye's hands began to trail along the hacker's suddenly stiff shoulders she whispered close to Dietrich's ear.

"Well done Dietrich, you always send me to the best of places."

Dietrich gulped as Galatea further conveyed her gratitude, the small squeeze to her shoulders disappointingly short as God Eye withdrew. The jangle of her car keys further signalled her intentions to once again disobey orders and with a brief nod in Elizabeth's direction, Galatea exited the conference room.

"Were we meant to…?" Dietrich trailed off hoping the blush she was sure had painted the entirety of her face red wouldn't be seen in the dim light from the monitor.

"Too late now." Elizabeth sounded strangely unconcerned. "You know how she gets when she's excited."

Deciding that there was no safe response to that statement, Dietrich wisely returned to her tracking.

* * *

><p>No matter how many times she asked herself, her thoughts arrived at the same answer bringing her back to stare at the wallpaper on the stolen phone. Out of all the things for God Eye to have used it had to have been that photo. The question of just where and how God Eye obtained it had sent her running from the agent's flat and into the nearest taxi. The far more unwanted question concerning why she had waited around for God Eye's call outright ignored. Miria's gaze travelled the length of the backseat finally settling upon the still slumbering Hilda. She couldn't allow Hilda to get mixed up in this.<p>

Her phone buzzed announcing a call, the wallpaper thankfully hidden as the screen flashed the incoming number. The assassin watched the phone fall silent as the call failed to connect. She had completely misjudged Galatea. The reasons behind those countless invasions of her personal space were now viewed in a decidedly different light. For actions once dismissed as opportunistic and a poor show of restraint on God Eye's part were actually tricks of the trade. Galatea, the agent who was constantly distracted and oh so annoyingly smug was actually capable of doing her job.

The taxi took a sharp turn, drawing her from the revelation, the driver eager to make the corner before the traffic lights turned red. Miria stared ahead, the windscreen showing the narrowing street that would lead them out of the main hotel district and towards other more isolated establishments on the outskirts of the city. As the taxi slowed to a stop and rejoined the banked up traffic, a short buzz drew Miria's attention. The mysterious caller had left God Eye a message. Call me back we need to talk, it's Renee. Was she another of God Eye's targets or just a poor unfortunate soul who actually knew her?

Shoving the phone into the pocket of her borrowed jacket, Miria turned back to take in the slowly awakening city. The early morning rush had yet to start as her driver took the second exit on the roundabout, the taxi moving away from the highway that would later lead them out of the city. Signalling their arrival they pulled over towards the curb and as the taxi came to a stop the Phantom glanced up at the establishment. The neon sign suited the name displayed, the apartment building looking glaringly out of place amongst the office buildings and warehouses that lined the street.

"It's the cheapest and the most discreet," the driver informed her, turning in her seat to spare Miria a glance.

"Its fine, thanks."

Miria withdrew the wallet she had taken from God Eye's flat and handed over the fare. Leaving the taxi and mindful of the bandaged forearm, Miria carefully supported the still unconscious Hilda as she stepped onto the sidewalk and took her first real look at the hotel. Built as a towering apartment block each room with a corresponding balcony, the hotel roof formed into four turrets that wouldn't be amiss atop a medieval castle. As the sound of the departing taxi faded away Miria helped Hilda up to the entrance where she was met with a locked door and a single intercom.

Hesitantly pressing the intercom, Miria shuffled backwards as the door swung open to reveal a faintly lit reception area. The desk was unmanned, the polished wooden surface reflecting a small glow from the terminal on the opposite wall. Tucked into the corner was a single door. The Phantom approached it with trepidation and found it locked. Abandoning it, Miria moved over to examine the terminal and noted for the first time the sheet of instructions taped to the screen. Just as the instructions foretold, the monitor lit up with a single tap. The screen splitting into several options each picture showing the inside of the respective rooms they advertised.

The images were coloured around the edges, green for vacancies and red for occupied. The prices for the individual rooms were found in the bottom right hand corner. Upon selection, the nearby booth would deposit the key via a slot similar in design to that of a chute dispensing drinks from a vending machine. A card would also be issued that would allow entrance past the electronically locked door and the rooms beyond. The same booth served as a payment machine effectively locking the patron in the foyer until the bill had been settled.

With no other choice available, Miria searched for the cheapest room. She soon discovered that a double tap upon the image enlarged it giving a far better look at the prospective room. Tapping upon the picture of the eighth room, Miria paused. Surely that couldn't be right. Returning to the selection page, the assassin checked the seventh room for clarification and the sixth just to confirm that her present issues with God Eye hadn't led to a temporary hallucination.

No, she had read those names correctly. _Midnight Seduction_ for room number six, _Sexy Spies_ in room number seven and the suspiciously named room number eight, _Cupid's Nursery_. Her confusion grew upon reading the name of room number seventeen. The simple title of _The Dungeon_ seemed painfully innocuous amongst the far more colourful names. A touch to the screen brought up the accompanying picture. Miria quickly returned to the menu. There was no way in hell she was ordering that one.

* * *

><p>Out of all the many possibilities of expressing one's guilt, the choice Cynthia had made correlated well within the parameters of her file. A noticeably loud sigh echoed within the cramped space, the medic yet to turn from the window she had been absentmindedly gazing from as the silver sports car thundered down the highway. Another sigh, longer this time and Raftela understood the message behind it. The interrogator's eyes flickered briefly from the road to the probable cause of Cynthia's mood. The white chef hat the medic held constantly switched from hand to hand.<p>

"From your report, extraction of the civilians was the only possibility."

From her observations, Raftela had summed up the majority of her sessions with the medic with one word. Reassurance. And judging from Cynthia's response it was also the quickest way to get her to talk. With all the sighing the medic had indulged in since entering the car, Raftela knew that it would be a missed opportunity to wait until their weekly sessions before assessing the latest emotional damage.

"Her whole life's gone," Cynthia murmured, her gaze still trained upon the scenery that flashed by the window.

The identity of the person in question was given away by the sudden grip upon the hat in the medic's hand and even without that glaring clue, Raftela would have known just who Cynthia was talking about. After all, it was her duty to keep well informed of newly acquired weaknesses within her comrades.

"If I hadn't walked into that Teppanyaki place, if we hadn't of chosen to meet there…They had to leave everything behind."

Judging from Cynthia's current state of mind, the aftermath of Hotel Pieta was turning out to be more serious than the interrogator's simple observations had so far revealed.

"They'll adapt," Raftela assured her. "People are remarkably good at that."

"They shouldn't have to be," Cynthia insisted turning from the window. "We should have been more careful."

"Even with the most carefully laid plans there are always civilians who manage to stumble straight through them," Raftela reminded her.

Cynthia groaned in response although she was unable to stop the smile that made its way to her bruised lips. The interrogator turned her attention back to the road, a quick double check of the mirrors informing her that further findings would have to wait. Raftela changed lanes, the two cars behind her following her move. The interrogator pressed gently down upon the accelerator, the cars responding to the change.

"I just never thought that one day I'd end up having to make that choice," Cynthia admitted, her hand picking at the inner stitching of the chef hat.

"How does Galatea do it? Just forget everyone she ever meets."

"I'm still in the process of trying to figure that out," Raftela confided, her alarm growing as a motorbike was now level with the suspicious cars.

Increasing her speed, Raftela's grip tightened upon the wheel as she began to weave in and out between cars, the three vehicles still there in her rear view mirror. Switching lanes and cutting in front of an approaching car, she ignored the beeping from the horn as a quick glance back confirmed that the motorbike had broken away from the group to stay in contact. Cynthia picked up on the change of situation as Raftela sped past their usual exit from the highway.

"We've got tails, three of them."

"They look suspicious enough to be Staff," Cynthia agreed before flicking open the glove box and removing the single Glock.

"It's a good thing we changed cars. Teresa's always bound to have at least one gun in the box."

Cynthia pressed the small button upon her arm rest. The tinted window began sliding open as Raftela took a sharp turn down the exit that announced the beginning of the currently deserted road that would take them to the waterfront on the outskirts of the city. With a nod, the medic leaned out gun in hand and as their tails followed down the exit Cynthia fired. She quickly ducked back upon emptying the magazine.

"How do you think they found us?" Cynthia asked, her hand searching within the glove box for a reload.

"I don't know…Orsay?" Raftela reasoned as she swung the car into the opposite lane to avoid the wild shots from behind.

"I can't believe we forgot about that."

Cynthia muttered and sliding the magazine into place she took advantage of the lull in fire to unleash her second volley before being pulled back inside as Raftela tugged upon her shirt.

"Take the wheel."

"Pardon?"

"Take the wheel and keep her steady," Raftela instructed in a tone Cynthia knew only too well.

"Oh no!" The medic hoped she was wrong. "You can't be thinking about doing the surgery now."

Her hopes were dashed as her comrade unbuckled her seatbelt one hand still upon the wheel. With a sigh, Cynthia followed, awkwardly climbing over the gear shift and into the interrogator's lap. As the medic gripped the wheel, her foot replacing Raftela's upon the accelerator, the interrogator clambered out from under her and tumbled into the backseat with far more grace than such a manoeuvre should have been capable of.

The switch had allowed Staff to gain on them leaving Cynthia with little choice but to nick the red of the speedometer. The car swung back into the correct lane as a headlight rounded the corner. Meanwhile, Raftela had found the release to the backseats and pulling them down revealed the interior of the car's boot and the main reason for the chase. Tied securely, a gag over his mouth and looking livid was one of the heads of Staff, Orsay. Just as the car veered wildly to the left, Raftela ripped off the temporary gag. The foul mouthed tirade was ignored for there were far more pressing matters that needed her attention. She sweetly inquired.

"Is it still standard Staff procedure for your tracker to be placed in your left forearm?"

Orsay looked up at her confused before his lips formed into a snarl.

"I don't know who the hell you are but if you think you can…"

The threat was cut off, Orsay and Raftela slamming into the side of the boot as Cynthia dangerously overtook the car in front of them. Steadying herself, Raftela slipped her hand into the inner pocket of her jacket and removed a small bundle. Its appearance seemed to change the interrogator, her balance unfazed despite Cynthia taking out one of the side mirrors as she entered a tunnel with Staff close behind.

"I'll give you two choices," Raftela intoned as she drew back the cloth that concealed the contents of the bundle. A row of polished surgical instruments, the scalpels sharpened to perfection glinted in the available light.

"_One_, which is affirmative, gets you anaesthetic," Raftela continued. A snap followed as the interrogator finished slipping on her surgical gloves.

"_Two_, which is negative, means I get to improvise," Raftela informed him. Her nimble fingers reaching for a blade removed it from its pouch.

"Although, despite whichever one you chose, understand that I will be getting that tracker out. I'm only going to give you one more chance. Does Staff still favour the left forearm?"

The blade now within her hand edged closer, Orsay's eyes widening in fright.

"It's the left. You damn crazy woman, the left!"

His eyes squeezed shut. Orsay prayed that the sight of the still moving knife wasn't going to be the last thing he saw but his quest for happier thoughts was rudely interrupted as the scalpel, cutting through rope, freed his left arm. Raftela yanked it forward, securing it with the nearby seatbelt. The arm now outstretched, the interrogator scanned the area quickly before deciding the best way to extract the tracker. Orsay's eyes opened just as she made her decision, the Staff member angrily reminding her of her promise.

"Oh, I remember you did choose the affirmative didn't you?"

Orsay was unconscious in the mere moments it took for Raftela's fist to dispense the promised local anaesthetic.

* * *

><p>It was somewhat ironic, Elizabeth thought, that a single rule designed to uphold the moral values concerning her former profession should have robbed them of a valuable partner, for there was no doubt in the ex-detective's mind that Galatea would have made an excellent addition to the colleagues of her former gloomy precinct. But then an agent was close enough to being a detective and a profession that didn't seem to require one to have a clean criminal record. Still it was a shame, for the gift of instinct seemed to be one that was rarely handed out these days.<p>

Elizabeth reached forward to awkwardly pat the hacker's shoulder. Dietrich oblivious, stared dumbfounded at the screen, the headset connecting her to Galatea hanging limply in her hand. The red dot had stopped. The address displayed the exact location Galatea had seconds before supplied to her. God Eye's voice sounded through the headset, the agent taking the silence as an affirmative to her suggestion.

"You would have gotten it eventually," Galatea reassured the hacker. "In that part of the city it's the only building worth knowing."

The crackling of static confirmed that God Eye had cut the connection and with the number three well on her way to securing the Phantom, Elizabeth gently extracted the headset from Dietrich's grasp. It would be best to now inform Irene that they finally had the location. Elizabeth was about to switch to the communication set linked to the boss when the base telephone let out a series of shrill rings. Passing the communication headset to Dietrich, the number five rolled her chair towards the conference table and the still ringing phone.

"I don't think any of us could have predicted the Phantom would stop at a love hotel," she told the still sulking hacker as she glanced down at the caller id.

Instructing Dietrich to inform the boss of the Phantom's location, Elizabeth answered the phone.

"Are you still on schedule?"

A sound that was unmistakably gun fire crackled over the phone, Cynthia's voice remarkably calm as she replied.

"We might be a little late…We've run into a spot of bother."

The sound of a beeping horn and the skidding of tyres cut off further words. The medic was currently too preoccupied to keep up with her side of the conversation. Elizabeth rolled her chair back to Dietrich's workspace.

"I need you to track the location of Cynthia's phone. They might have company."

Dietrich's fingers danced across the keys heeding her request, another window opening to display a map of the highway and its various exits. Narrowing down the location, Dietrich hacked the overhead traffic camera mounted at the entrance of the tunnel along the road the blinking dot had travelled.

"Three tails quickly gaining. They exited the tunnel over two minutes ago. It's definitely Staff."

"Contact the boss and tell her of the change in situation. Send Cynthia's location to my phone. I'm going to need it. We're mounting a rescue op."

Dietrich nodded and moving to send the information to Elizabeth's phone her fingers paused on the keyboard upon seeing the blinking notification that had appeared out of nowhere. A rare curse escaped the hacker upon seeing the picture.

"This isn't good," Dietrich muttered. Elizabeth joined her, the number five slipping the handgun she had just checked back into its holster.

"Oh, damn it," Elizabeth swore. "She just had to have chosen her moment now."

Dressed in the standard uniform for nursing staff, Roxanne was the perfect picture of poise as she waited in the hospital foyer for the next lift that would take her to whatever it was she was planning to steal this time.

"What the hell are _you_ doing there?

Elizabeth couldn't help voicing her frustrations as she stared at the one she had so desperately tried to track down. Roxanne was again taunting her with the ease with which she was capable of drifting in and out of the former detective's life. Seeing the struggle upon her comrade's face, Dietrich glanced between the image and the phone still within Elizabeth's hand. And within that second, Elizabeth made her choice.

"Stay ahead of Staff. I'm on my way."

Ending the call, the number five took a final glance at the image of the Chameleon before dashing from the conference room straight towards the armoury.

* * *

><p>Two sealed toothbrushes, two sets of pyjamas and an extensive range of body lotions and hair products were all that the bathroom cupboard contained. Miria shut the door somewhat relieved. Despite the presence of the beauty care products that held little value for her, the Phantom was relieved at the familiar appearance of the toothbrushes as a quick search of the room had shown Miria just how strange it was for there, just a few steps away was the main cause of offence.<p>

The Phantom gingerly made her way back to the Jacuzzi. Looking inside again she verified that the painted cupids still lined the sides, their arrows at the ready. Another tired glance upwards confirmed the continuing theme, the glowing red hearts upon the ceiling earning a sigh from the Phantom. Making her way past the glass shower door that really offered no privacy at all, Miria entered the bedroom. Hilda lay upon the bed, her head comfortably resting upon the heart shaped pillows. Her bandaged forearm was carefully placed over her stomach, the scattered red rose petals that surrounded her doing little to disturb her sleep.

The assassin sat uncomfortably on the edge of the loveseat opposite as she assessed her options. Taking Hilda's current condition into consideration, she knew they couldn't get that far. Her hand unconsciously made its way to the phone inside her pocket. As she withdrew it, God Eye's wallet tumbled out onto the floor. Retrieving it and flipping it open, her fingers counted the notes inside. Money was also an issue as it was a given that Staff would have moved to freeze all her accounts.

Returning to the wallet she absentmindedly removed the first card, her head shaking in amusement upon discovering the majority of them were for clubs whose activities, although hinted at provided no further insight into the mysterious God Eye. For if there was one thing their brief time together had taught her it was that God Eye, given the opportunity, had a certain fondness for stripping. The last card now within her hand, Miria twirled it between her fingers. The surname upon it was identical to the one on the credit card, which confirmed that the name was most likely one of the agent's many covers. After all, the name Galatea was nowhere to be seen but then was that even God Eye's real name?

However, the driver's license was somewhat special, Miria thought. A rare photo and probably the only one in existence that God Eye hadn't managed to smirk her way through. Did this exchange of photos make them even then? Miria traced the edges of the phone. Why would someone as well trained as God Eye make the mistake of using such an incriminating image as her wallpaper? It was stupid really and just a tiny bit intriguing.

Hilda stirred drawing Miria away from her thoughts concerning the agent. Tucking the wallet back into her pocket, the Phantom made her way over to the bed to gingerly sit upon it. The mattress shifted under her weight reminding the assassin of her strong dislike for water beds but her musings were cut short as Hilda bolted awake letting out a scream.

"Miria!"

"Hilda!" Miria called her, grabbing Hilda's flailing arms in order to stop her from tumbling from the bed.

Her actions calmed Hilda and as her shaking hands reached out to touch the assassin's face, her wild unfocused gaze relaxed as relief overtook her.

"Miria…? You're alive," Hilda whispered drawing the assassin into a desperate embrace.

"I thought you'd be dead," Hilda continued to whisper. Miria's arms protectively encircled her upon hearing the words.

"They were going to kill you…"

Hilda stopped as Miria had taken her hand in hers to quiet her frantic state. The Phantom knelt in front of her to voice the one thing she had longed to tell her.

"I've finally gotten you out of there. It worked, Hilda. The plan worked."

"Miria," Hilda's voice cracked as she drew away. Her hand wiped away the tears that had begun to form before she cupped Miria's face, her thumb trailing along the cheek.

"It worked," she repeated, her look gentle as she further murmured. "Miria, oh you've always being reckless haven't you? I can't believe the exchange worked."

"Do you have any idea how worried I was for you when you told me you were going after Orsay?" she confessed playfully pinching Miria's cheek.

"Is that why you gave me that knife?" A rare smile formed upon the Phantom's face as she teased back before moving to retrieve the knife she had strapped to her belt, the shirt she wore hampering her movement.

Despite the discomfort, Miria had to admit her newly acquired clothing was a vast improvement over the uniform of Hotel Pieta. However, the lack of T-shirts within God Eye's closet had left her sorely disappointed. Freeing the knife from its sheath, Miria presented it with a flourish to Hilda who laughed at the action before she confessed.

"Partly the reason, although you can't think very highly of me if you thought I would pass up the opportunity to buy you an engagement gift."

"I'm actually quite glad you did otherwise Ophelia would have…" Miria trailed off her smile vanishing as she saw the dread upon Hilda's face.

"Ophelia was there?" Hilda seemed to shiver upon mentioning the name. "What happened?"

"It was fine," Miria reassured her as she scrambled to explain. "I managed to fend her off…Although she shouldn't have been at Hotel Pieta."

Voicing the nagging doubt that had been plaguing her since seeing Ophelia, Miria joined Hilda on the bed as she sheathed the knife before returning it to her belt.

"She works for Rimuto not Orsay. I don't think I've ever seen Orsay's bodyguard. It's always just been Ophelia and me as the main bodyguards. I've never met the third…"

"Pray that you never do," Hilda cut her off with a whisper, her lips trembling. "He's a monster that makes Ophelia…Wait, where's the Rabona girl?"

Hilda sprang from the bed, her eyes searching the room frantically. Miria was instantly by her side and led her back to the bed.

"Gal…The girl's safe," Miria elaborated as Hilda looked unconvinced upon hearing her falter. "She's with her father…probably being scolded."

The tense mood of moments before had disappeared as a coy smile made its way to Hilda's face. She teased back as she playfully nudged Miria.

"So, did you? You know, Miria," Hilda sighed upon seeing the confused look her companion gave her. "Did you end up going through with Staff's mission?"

"Mission?" Miria's tone matched her expression, the confusion clearing as Hilda reached for the knife at the Phantom's belt.

"That's…" Miria weakly tried to explain before she gave up and confessed. "That's…no we didn't get to the ceremony."

"I thought so," Hilda hummed as she withdrew the knife from the sheath and removed the end of the hilt to reveal its secret compartment.

Flipping the knife, two wedding bands wrapped carefully within velvet tumbled from the compartment into her hand.

"You were a nervous wreck when we bought it," Hilda reminisced. "I was sure you had a crush."

"Hilda, I don't even know her. I was just assigned to marry her…"

Even if the unwilling exchange of photos failed, their identical assignments surely left them with an even score. It was just business really between two people from opposing sides. She had Hilda and Galatea had whoever the next girl who walked by happened to be. And like the name that had been bestowed upon her it was now time for Miria to disappear from the ongoing fight between Staff, the Ghosts and whoever the hell else decided to join in. Besides, those eight kisses, or was it nine, would be more than enough to make for a memorable goodbye.

"And where do we go from here?" Hilda's question brought her back to the room, the expression upon her face making it clear that she regretted the turn in the conversation.

"We're now in this place," Hilda continued gesturing at the décor. Miria's eyes followed and looking at the love hearts covering the ceiling she let forth a sustained groan.

"When I selected it I didn't think it would be this bad."

"Cupid's Nursery? Surely this wasn't the best option," Hilda teased as she reached over for the small card by the bedside table, her action sending a twinge down her forearm.

Noticing the bandage for the first time, Hilda's smile faded as she began to frantically undo it.

"Did you remove my tracker?"

Miria nodded as the bandage came free to reveal the veins that strained against the surface of her skin. Sensing danger, the Phantom moved for her knife.

"Staff changed the tracker system." Hilda's breathing had quickened. "When you removed it, AB was injected straight into my blood. How long have I got?"

"I took the tracker out two hours ago."

Hilda took a series of deep breaths before her gaze found Miria, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"You need to get out now before I lose control."

Biting back a curse, Miria sheathed her knife and moved forward to grab Hilda's arm.

"We've done this before. You just need to suppress it until we leave the city."

"Miria, no…"

A low growl left Hilda's throat as Miria dragged her towards the door. If they could make it out of the city, she could subdue her without any civilian casualties. That thought in mind, she sprinted out of the room and down the corridor, her hand locked within Hilda's grip. Ignoring the fire escape and rushing down the stairs into the hall, she quickly swiped the card that would allow her access to the reception foyer.

Clearing the door, Miria headed for the exit where she tried the handle only for it to remain firmly shut. Damn it, the assassin cursed. The card proved useless as the door refused to open. Returning to the monitor, she scanned her options, her gaze diverting to the payment machine the cause of her problem suddenly clear. Racing towards the machine, she read the display and following the prompts selected the room number she had booked. The screen flashed.

"Are you ready to leave?"

Aware that Hilda's nails had started to dig into her palm with enough force to break the skin, Miria quickly pressed the affirmative option.

"Would you like to pay now?"

This time a brief flicker of discomfort crossed the assassin's face as a growl far more guttural than the first sounded close to her ear. Miria jabbed the affirmative button only for more information to scroll across the screen.

"You will have to pay the full amount despite having not stayed for the entire booking duration. Are you fine to proceed?"

It might have been due to the fact that the feeling in her hand had just been brutally cut off, but Miria swore that the machine seemed to stall upon receiving her affirmative as if it was well aware of the look upon her face that became more incredulous with each passing question. Thankfully, the screen displayed the amount owed and Miria, fumbling within her pocket extracted the first card she found. Luck continued to be on her side, the credit card was quickly swiped and the payment processed. The sound of Hilda's laboured breathing filled the foyer as growls that could no longer be classified as human rumbled from her throat. The screen flashed again.

"Thank you for your payment. If the room was not to your satisfaction we would be happy to re-book you into one more to your liking. Number Seventeen is now available would you like to book The Dungeon, our highly recommended bondage room?"

The innocent question would have received a far more violent response had Hilda not grown bored with crushing Miria's hand. Her nails had clawed upwards to sink into the flesh of the assassin's forearm which fact serving as a very painful reminder that time was running out, propelled the Phantom and her charge towards the exit. However, at the door Miria whirled them around back to the payment machine. Slamming her hand down upon its surface to steady them she re-read the last question. And as Hilda's eye colour turned from silver to a dangerous gold, Miria quickly confirmed her booking. The machine yielded the keys for the bondage room.

* * *

><p>Drumming her fingers upon the arm rest, she shifted in the passenger seat, balanced her iphone on one knee and swiping her fingers across the screen revealed the address Dietrich had just texted her. Irene made a mental note to assign the hacker a new assignment upon her return to base, preferably after she had locked the Phantom in one of their secure holding cells for being such a nuisance. And she would be so sorely tempted to throw Galatea in as added company. Either way that cell had gone unoccupied for far too long. On second thoughts the Phantom's future cell mate would be a choice between God Eye and whoever the damn person was who had the nerve to steal her Mercedes. She would have to get Dietrich to solve that mystery.<p>

"You can try starting the engine now, it's been more than five minutes," Irene commanded only for the request to be denied, her driver tapping upon her watch to prove her point.

"We've still got another minute left."

Teresa's patient tone turned a tad condescending as she continued to speak.

"I told you we shouldn't have taken the Toyota. If you had given me the chance I would have asked Gala for the keys to the Audi…"

"And you wouldn't have gotten them without a fight and quite frankly I couldn't have lasted another second in the room with that incompetent idiot."

"You know that's part of her charm," Teresa admonished. "Perhaps, we should have told her about our little secret."

"Aren't you concerned about losing the only opportunity to find out if Operation Claymore was ever completed?" Irene asked wearily.

Her gaunt face rested against the window as the tension of the recent events finally caught up with her.

"It's a project that should have never been started," Teresa murmured as she turned the key in the ignition, the engine spluttering to life.

Pulling away from the kerb, the Toyota glided forward until reaching the end of the street, the engine gave a final splutter before it cut out. Another twist of the key in the ignition brought the car back to life, the car at last making the corner. Taking the roundabout as cautiously as she could, Teresa heeded Irene's instructions to choose the second exit, entering the street at a crawl. Irene confirmed the identity of the building as Teresa began to pull over just behind a parked Audi. The boss let out a strangled cry upon seeing the vehicle and jumping from the moving car, she hit the sidewalk at a run, a stream of curses escaping her lips as she strode up the stairs leaving her agent to park the car.

"Keep the engine running. Hell knows if we'll ever get it working again if we don't!"

Irene shouted her commands as she pressed the intercom to open the door. The boss swept inside and headed straight for the only occupant within the foyer.

"Galatea! I remember saying you were confined to base until further notice."

"Irene!" Galatea had turned to greet her boss but with a well timed dodge past Irene's fist, she manoeuvred into position behind her. This tactic allowed God Eye to place a hand upon Irene's shoulder and steer her towards the monitor.

"You're a little late, but still I could do with some help."

God Eye tapped upon the screen bringing up the image of a room before quickly flicking to the image of another. Galatea looked surprisingly thoughtful.

"Would you pick two or seventeen? Judging from the occupied rooms, Miria is certain to be in one of them. I just can't decide which one is more to her liking, _The Dungeon_ or _Cordon Le Bleu_. What do you think?"

Irene was saved from having to answer as the edge of the _Cordon Le Bleu_ image turned to green. Galatea gave a small hum of approval as she whispered into her boss's ear.

"I was hoping it would be _The Dungeon_."

A click to their left signalled the opening of the door. Galatea's training immediately kicked in and Irene quickly found herself in a decidedly awkward situation. God Eye had pulled her into an embrace that could only be mistaken for one of the utmost intimacy. And as if to clear all remaining doubt the agent's hand came to a rest upon the back pocket of her jeans. Irene jumped as the temptation facing God Eye proved too great to resist. The two guests emerging from the corridor seemed to share her discomfort and glanced guiltily away. Whether due to having seen Galatea in action or a sense of embarrassment about being seen in a love hotel, Irene would never know as her attention was again diverted by God Eye's hand wandering towards the next pocket.

With an exchange of nods, the couple moved towards the payment machine, the younger man fumbling as he paid for the room. His partner's eyes roamed towards the two Ghosts, his gaze growing more appreciative with each passing second. A grin formed across his face just as the young man having completed the payment started to lead him towards the door. Stepping aside to allow the door to open, his grin widened as he allowed another patron through. He turned back to farewell them with an approving whistle.

"Hope you have fun, ladies."

"Sid!"

His partner's disapproval came with a slap on the arm as he dragged Sid out the door. The sound of their voices arguing, faded down the steps. Irene broke the awkward silence.

"Surely he didn't think we were…"

"No," Galatea reassured her with a smirk as she greeted Teresa who remained by the door. "I believe he thought it was all three of us."

"Aren't you aiming a bit too high Gala?" Teresa countered as she made her way towards them.

"Perhaps," Galatea admitted unable to resist giving Irene a final touch as she withdrew. "I don't fancy getting between you and your unresolved tension concerning our boss."

Her vibrating phone caused Irene to jump. She quickly answered it upon seeing the caller id while making a second mental note to raise Dietrich's pay for the hacker's most impeccable timing.

"Report."

"We've got trouble," Dietrich's voice informed her. "Staff's after Orsay. The last we heard they were travelling towards the waterfront. Agent Five is on her way to assist."

Scratch that pay rise she would probably need it to afford the rescue mission.

"There might be another problem," Dietrich reluctantly continued.

There seemed to be an endless supply of them Irene mused and closing her eyes, she began massaging her forehead as the remnants of her previous headache began to prepare for a second assault.

"The Chameleon has resurfaced." Dietrich paused, the sound of her typing heard over the phone. "Judging from the precinct chatter it seems the hospital she's targeting is where that bodyguard Agent God Eye fought was admitted this morning."

"Track her movements. Hopefully she'll lead us to who she's working for," Irene instructed. "Send Agent Five's location to Number One's phone. Agent God Eye and I will return as soon as we secure the Phantom."

Ending the call Irene turned to address her two agents.

"Teresa, I need you to head to that location. Somehow, Staff has managed to track Orsay. I don't want to lose him after the trouble we've gone through to get him. Take Galatea's car, you need to get there as fast as you can."

Irene dismissed Galatea's objection before it was voiced, the glare she gave her agent sending God Eye reluctantly reaching for her car keys. Removing them, Galatea stalled but surrendered them to Teresa after a growl from Irene. The number one and number three shared a look as the keys passed between them, a pained expression crossing God Eye's features.

"You do know I'm still paying for that Audi."

"Of course," Teresa murmured giving her a wink as she made for the door. "I know everything about you Gala darling."

Staring at the door Teresa had vanished through, Galatea was drawn back to the current mission by the sounds of Irene attempting to demolish the locked door. Regarding the room selection, a thoughtful look upon her face, Galatea confirmed the red edged image of room number seventeen. Well, it seemed as if she had something in common with Miria after all. Her gaze caught the image of the room above _The Dungeon_.

"Oh, that's new."

* * *

><p>Tapping her foot to the bouncy show tune that filled the lift, Roxanne hummed along as she watched the floor numbers light up in turn. <em>The name on everybody's lips is gonna be ….<em>With a loud ding, the lift announced its arrival at the fourth floor. The doors slid open for the Chameleon to step out into the corridor and continue her way unchallenged towards the entrance of the nearby ward. A quick presentation of her id allowed her entry, the automated doors swinging open to admit her.

Strolling past the nurse's station Roxanne glanced down at the number scrawled messily upon her hand. Room twenty one. The Chameleon's keen eyes spotted the number and without breaking her stride she casually swiped the nearest patient folder. By the time Roxanne had reached the end of the corridor, she had acquired a pen, tourniquet, gloves and the closest machine which she casually wheeled into the private room. Two guards immediately confronted her, their hands, resting upon their respective holsters relaxed as they noticed her uniform.

Giving them both a well practiced smile, Roxanne turned towards the machine. If there was one thing about her job that she took great pride in, it was her attention to detail. Taking the cuff from its basket, she approached the bedside while turning to offer another smile in the guards' direction.

"I'm just going to take the patient's vital signs," she gestured towards the cuff. "Blood pressure, temperature, O2 saturation, all those kinds of things."

The one she guessed was the more senior nodded and stepped away from the bed, her partner following. Roxanne couldn't help but grow even fonder of those who wore the uniform. The number of times a guard's need to follow orders had helped her in her endeavours was endless, although perhaps it was time she stopped referring to the two in front of her as guards. The rather cliché duster coat and fedora gave away their true profession. But then to deny her affection towards detectives would be outright lying.

With the very presence of the detectives, Roxanne knew that she had found her prize. The thief's attention was drawn for the first time towards the patient who occupied the bed. Wincing in sympathy at the ugly bruise that formed over the face of the still slumbering form, Roxanne gently wound the cuff around the patient's arm aware that the two guards watched her every move. And if there was one thing she loved, it was playing the part. The Chameleon checked the readings on the blood pressure machine.

Satisfied, Roxanne withdrew a plastic case flipping it open to reveal a small syringe. And just as she predicted the detectives at once questioned her.

"The cannula needs to be flushed with saline," Roxanne explained. "As she's yet to awaken we have to ensure reliable access to provide fluids by intravenous means."

The explanation seemed to satisfy them. The younger detective who seemed far more prone to reaching for her gun dropped her hand away from her holster. Her movement allowed the coat to fall back into place obscuring the weapon from sight. Roxanne suppressed a smile upon seeing the tell tale glint of the silver badge clipped upon the detective's belt. The 99th precinct must have some curse over it for its detectives seemed to always stumble into her plans one way or another. Whether the two in front of her lived up to their predecessor would be the unexpected highlight of her current heist.

And ever the perfectionist in her different roles, she attached the syringe to the cannula while conversing with the detectives. The final stage of the heist was falling into place.

"She was as white as a ghost when…"

Really, she hated working for Ermita. The stupid man more often than not forgot to inform her just how prone to violence her prizes truly were. The arm she had just injected suddenly swung upwards and narrowly missed a collision with her face. Silver eyes flickered open. The arm that had missed its target quickly latched onto her uniform and yanked her down to face her now very awake prize.

At least the guards were quick to react. However, the fedora wearing detective took a direct hit to the face from the television remote the patient flung across the bed. As she staggered backwards, the patient wrapped the small cord connecting the remote to the wall around her victim's defensively raised arm. With a single tug, the detective was pulled before her tormentor who now had grabbed her around the head. The grip tightened over the well fitted fedora, before its owner was sent smashing face first into the bedside rail.

One detective down, her unconscious body falling to the floor, her partner raced to free Roxanne from further danger. The Chameleon now revealed her true intentions and snatched the handcuffs from the detective's belt. Snapping a cuff around their owner's wrist, the Chameleon secured the other to the bed rail. And taking note of her prize's finishing move, she took the legs out from under her opponent and sent her tumbling into the bedside rail where the impact knocked her unconscious.

"My information proved correct. I wasn't entirely sure you'd respond to the cue."

Roxanne at last greeted the patient whose gaze followed the detective's slump to the floor. Her expression, one of mild interest.

"How's the head?" Roxanne further inquired. "You seem intact so I'm guessing there is no pain of the phantom kind."

The grip on her uniform that had remained firm throughout the dispatch of the two detectives tightened as the patient glanced down at her id.

"You seem to know an awful lot of cues. I take it you're not a nurse."

"You could say I'm in charge of patient transfers. Although just to make sure I've got the right one, is your name Ophelia by any chance?"

"What?" Ophelia sounded pleasantly surprised. "They didn't provide you with a picture?"

"I was told I'd know her on sight," Roxanne admitted indicating Ophelia's injuries with a sight tilt of the head. "That's a very impressive bruise."

"And you're a very interesting person."

Ophelia released her grip and shoving the Chameleon backwards she vaulted over the bedside rail before she paused in her pursuit to take a look around the room. In a single move, Ophelia slammed Roxanne against the bed side cabinet, her hand reaching to toy with the name tag upon the uniform.

"I could do with your name now that we're on a first name basis."

Ophelia's justification was followed by a quick move. Her hand ripped the blood pressure cuff from her arm as she now planned to use it to choke her opponent. But the Chameleon had anticipated her intentions and easily slipped from Ophelia's grasp, their positions now reversed as Roxanne slammed her opponent against the wall opposite the cabinet.

"Perhaps we could get further acquainted once that sal…sorry, drug wears off," Roxanne sweetly informed her.

The Chameleon darted backwards as her opponent's elbow came dangerously close to hitting her chin. Now thoroughly amused, Ophelia stared her down, her eyes flickering to take in the still embedded cannula in her arm.

"My, my…" Ophelia looked briefly impressed as she surveyed the attached empty syringe. "You're making quite the first impression, aren't you?"

The tranquilizer took effect shortly afterwards and Roxanne moved forward to catch the falling Ophelia before gently guiding her to the floor. Looking around the room, the Chameleon acknowledged the heist was far from over and sighing as she ran her hand through one of her curls, she thought she might just have to give into temptation and steal one of those wheelchairs.

* * *

><p>Though having frequently travelled the very same coastal road they were now speeding down, Cynthia had to admit she had never before noticed just how many tricky turns needed to be navigated. The upcoming sign warned about the end of the relatively flat straight part of the road, signalling hairpin bends and a steady climb for the next five kilometres. The sound of gunfire rang out. Cynthia glanced in the rear view mirror and seeing that Staff was gaining, she gripping the wheel tighter as they sped past the sign.<p>

"Raftela," the medic warned.

"Almost there." Raftela's gaze remained fixed upon the open wound she had cut in Orsay's forearm.

The self retaining retractor she had inserted kept the edges of the wound apart and allowed Raftela to work unhindered under the car's interior light. The interrogator's forceps closed around the small tracker as she began the delicate extraction.

"Upcoming hairpin bends," Cynthia elaborated. "Raftela…"

"Wait…" Her comrade murmured, the forceps steady as she continued to gently work the tracker out.

"I really need to turn!"

"Almost there…" Raftela paused as the tracker met resistance. She moved the forceps gently back and forth to free it.

"Raftela!" Cynthia shouted as the first bend rapidly approached.

"Turn…now." The tracker came free as the medic slammed on the brakes. Raftela tumbled forward into the backseat, the prize securely held within her forceps.

With a screech from the tyres Cynthia took the turn, the sound of gunfire right behind them. Coming out of the bend, she swung the steering wheel driving them into the middle of the two way lane to avoid the hail of bullets. Dropping the extracted tracker into the drinks holder, Raftela leaned over the handbrake to rummage through the open glove box. After failing to find any suitable substitute for the item she needed, she noticed the chef hat along with the Glock that Cynthia had left on the passenger seat.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia asked in alarm as the chef hat caught on the handbrake. At the same instant the sound of gunfire resumed.

As Raftela yanked on the hat Cynthia pulled it free and none too gently pitched it into the backseat. Evading the bullets, the car screamed around the next hairpin bend. Grabbing her forceps, Raftela turned the chef hat inside out and began to unpick the inner stitching. Rounding another bend, Cynthia's gaze flickered towards the remaining side mirror to check the pursuers. She glanced briefly at the empty passenger seat. The confusion of just what had snagged the handbrake cleared as she further confirmed her suspicions with a quick glance towards the backseat.

"What do you think you're doing with my hat?" Cynthia demanded but Raftela's response was lost as the next turn was upon them.

With seconds to spare, Cynthia manoeuvred the car, the tyres screeching in protest. But she had cut it too finely and the passenger side scraped the guard rail. As the medic fought to keep the car under control, her attempts sent the chef hat tumbling from Raftela's grasp, the cotton she had managed to unpick still within her hands. Breaking from the rail and further upsetting Raftela who was just about to thread her needle, Cynthia stomped upon the accelerator and thundered onwards. Rounding the final bend with safety as a low priority, she cleared the series of turns as Raftela threaded the needle at last and moved to make the first suture upon Orsay's wound.

"Keep her steady," she ordered. The first stitch complete, the interrogator began working her way along the wound.

"That might be a bit difficult." Cynthia gritted her teeth as Staff, celebrating their mutual survival through the navigational difficulty they had just left behind, resumed firing upon them.

The remaining mirror shattered as a bullet hit its mark. One of the cars following had broken formation and was accelerating towards them. As the car drew level, the tinted window slid down, sure signs that the gunman onboard was about to fire.

"We've got company." Cynthia sped up, Staff matching her speed.

Reaching for the Glock on the front seat Cynthia picked it up and tossed it back to Raftela. Temporarily abandoning her stitching, Raftela picked up the gun and as the tinted window slid down offering her a view of Staff's gunner she fired, sending them into retreat. The Staff car smashed into the side of their silver sports car, trapping the Ghosts between their car and the guard rail. Vying against each other as they fought to push the other away, the two cars sped onwards. Glass shattered as the Staff backup car with flanking motorbike for further support, came forward and shot out the Ghost's back window.

The incoming roar of an engine reached them, a vehicle in the opposite lane rounding the corner, Elizabeth having arrived on the scene. From her position on her motorbike, automatic sawn-off shotgun in hand, she fired two rounds before speeding past the duelling cars, her shots hitting Staff's tyres. Gliding her bike between the two groups, Elizabeth aimed the shotgun at the following two vehicles. Her shots deterred the gunner in the car but put her on a direct collision course with the oncoming motorbike. Throwing the shotgun at the approaching bike sent it into a wild swerve as Elizabeth purposely swung into the path of the oncoming car which slammed on its brakes. The Ghost leapt from her bike just as it collided with the front of the car sending both vehicles crashing into the railing.

But then sometimes things don't go the way you plan for Elizabeth had misjudged the jump and the pain that shot through her body informed her that the tumble had cost her, probably a couple of broken ribs, judging from how much it hurt to breathe. The faint sound of an engine pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Two out of three wasn't all that bad but Elizabeth liked a perfect score and out of all the ways to die, getting run over by a biker wasn't on the list, besides, she'd already faked one death to get away from this organisation. Elizabeth ignored the pain as she reached for her handgun. What a damn morbid thought to send her on her way, Elizabeth mused as she drew back the safety. The number five raised her head from the ground as the sound of the approaching engine drew closer. As the oncoming lights blinded her, Elizabeth fired wildly and instinctively rolled out of the way.

The motorbike, still on course to run her down swerved quickly to the side as the high revving scream of another engine announced the presence of the incoming Audi. The car screeched around Elizabeth as the driver threw open a door just as the motorbike swerved before crashing headlong into the sudden obstacle. Elizabeth rolled behind the Audi as the motorbike and its rider taking out the door, crashed into a heap a short distance away. Teresa leant out to regard her through the missing car door.

"Well, aren't you going to get in?"

* * *

><p>In hindsight, Raftela was beginning to appreciate the wayward attitude of the Ghosts she kept company with. The interrogator loaded the clip she had just found in the secret compartment under the backseat. Firing at the car that trapped them against the railing, she ducked behind the seats as Staff returned the favour. Really, if Galatea and Teresa hadn't decided to aid the Phantom in her quest and take her car, then their current pursuers would have been victorious, for she knew that her own car didn't have a seemingly endless supply of ammunition.<p>

From Raftela's crouched position on the floor, yet another of Teresa's hiding places was revealed. She snatched the clip from its pouch strapped under the passenger seat and reloaded her empty Glock. Whether Teresa's hidden supplies lasted would be the question which decided their survival, the interrogator noted as she raised her weapon to fire again. The Staff car suddenly veered away as the leaking pressure from the shot tyres started to take effect. Cynthia stomped on the accelerator at this first sign of trouble and the silver sports shot past the now failing Staff car.

Peeking over the backseats, Raftela was just in time to see the shot tyre give way as the tread shredded causing the car to spin out of control and smash into the guard rail, well and truly out of the chase. Returning to Orsay's slumped body, Raftela examined her hasty stitching for the first time. Considering that she had performed the surgery under fire and at the mercy of Cynthia's decidedly dangerous driving it was somewhat miraculous that the stitches were lined up perfectly. Well, crooked from where she had started to where she had finished if she was truthful about it.

Provided the rest of the journey continued in a far more peaceful manner, Raftela was sure that the last snitches would be far neater. The interrogator was about to complete the final set to close the wound when she noticed the cut was noticeably shorter than the incision she had made upon the arm. Looking at the cut again, it seemed to shrink before her very eyes. A closer inspection revealed that the wound was beginning to heal right in front of her.

Yanking the stitches out, Raftela watched as the incision she had made closed under her fingers, the makeshift stitches falling to the floor as she stared at the unblemished skin in front of her. Quickly checking both of Orsay's arms for puncture marks and finding none, she scrambled forward leaning over the driver's seat to grab the tracker.

"Cynthia!" Raftela warned as Orsay began to stir behind her. "He's been injected with…"

Orsay struck, cutting off the interrogator as he sat bolt upright, his fingers closing around her throat and slamming her against the headrest. The action forced Cynthia forward as the car lurched into the opposite lane. The medic managed to pull them back into the right lane just as the headlights of an approaching vehicle appeared in the distance. Raftela struggled against Orsay, the drug that had been injected into his system via the removal of the tracker granting him enhanced strength. He had broken the ropes that had bound his hands and feet and Raftela was unable to pry his hands from her throat.

The opposite lane now empty, Cynthia threw the car into a series of zigzags dislodging her passengers' balance and sent the two tumbling onto the backseat. Raftela's hands desperately searched for the fallen Glock. Closing her hand around it, the interrogator smashed it into the side of Orsay's head to release his deadly hold. Orsay, lost within the effects of the drug, launched forward to sink his teeth into Raftela's hand. A grunt of pain escaping the interrogator's lips as his teeth sank further into her flesh, turned to a scream of pain as he torn free. The gun fell from Raftela's grip and onto the passenger seat as she cradled her injured hand. Two of her fingers had been bitten clean off.

Within the rear view mirror of the sports car, the image of the deserted road was shattered as Orsay let out a low growl, his eyes changing to a gold that under the drug's influence signalled the surrendering of the little humanity he still possessed. Cynthia's hands froze upon the wheel. She slammed on the brakes as the memory of that familiar gold paralysed her. The tyres of the car screeched off the road and smashed into the railing just as the Audi reached them. Teresa hit the brakes just in time to avoid crashing into the back of the now ruined sports car.

Stepping out unfazed via her missing car door, Teresa watched Orsay freeing himself from the wreck and dragging the unconscious body of Cynthia behind him. The medic was thrown aside as Orsay charged the Audi before Teresa ducked back through the missing door. The drug fuelled Orsay lunged for her, his teeth sinking into a silver object Teresa had raised in self defence. With the beast now distracted and gnawing on the retractable car key she held in her hand, Teresa pressed the boot release on the remote unit. Elizabeth scrambled into the back of the car and despite the pain from her ribs she released the back seats. As Orsay yanked the keys from Teresa's grip, the number five escaped through the boot.

Teresa herself, after ramming Orsay's head into the steering wheel darted for the backseat but Orsay, quickly recovering from the collision grabbed her trailing foot. Kicking off her shoe, she dived into the boot and emerged smiling to offer a wave before slamming it shut. Orsay who followed knocked himself unconscious as he smashed right into the sudden obstacle. A shoe down, Teresa hobbled around the car, entered through the missing door and climbing into the backseat, closely observed the unconscious Orsay.

She shoved his feet aside and repositioned the backseats locking him once again within the confines of a car boot. Before she climbed out of the car she paused to retrieve the key Orsay had finished gnawing and finding her shoe, slipped it on. She turned to regard her fellow Ghost.

"Well," she said dusting off her hands as she leant against the side of the car. "What's next?"

* * *

><p>Confirming her booking for the room above the dungeon, Galatea unlocked the access door with the provided card and allowed the boss to stride ahead. The two agents then came upon their next obstacle. The door of room number seventeen loomed in front of them. Nudging Irene aside, Galatea withdrew the credit card she had taken the opportunity to steal from her boss's back pocket and began to work on the lock.<p>

Inserting the plastic between the frame and the door, God Eye moved the card up and down, attempting to draw back the lock while an impatient Irene sniped at her.

"That will never work."

"You might be right. I don't think your card's as good as mine."

"Is that my credit card? When…where did you get that?"

"From your pocket." Galatea reinserted the card to try the lock again as she continued in an offended tone. "Did you really think I was just taking advantage of you, Irene? I'm shocked you think so poorly of me."

The lock clicked back, the door opening a fraction. A triumphant God Eye turned to face Irene.

"I knew they hadn't changed the locks…"

Snatching her card back and clearly not in the mood for further conversation, Irene kicked the door wide open. All subtlety gained was lost as, gun in hand, the boss stormed into a flurry of feathers. A room in disarray greeted them. Bed clothes, torn into strips lay scattered around the room. The matching feather pillows were ripped to shreds, their contents floating in the air. Upturned, its glass top shattered by the chair that had been smashed through it were the remains of the coffee table. The chair's missing leg had somehow managed to find its way through the mirror. The broken glass was scattered over the replica suit of armour that had once stood by the leather couch and now lay in pieces upon it.

Galatea let out an approving whistle, Irene quickly double checking the address that the tracker had supplied. Signalling that she would take the bathroom, Irene left Galatea a spare handgun before entering the room. Galatea followed Irene, noting that the bed head had several missing and shattered wooden slats.

"It must have been a hell of reunion Miria," Galatea whispered as she searched the bedside table to confirm her observation.

Intrigued, she turned her attention towards the centrepiece of the room. A small dungeon took up the majority of the back wall. God Eye strolled over to examine its red bars, giving the gun within her hand a twirl as she holstered it. The dungeon door swung back without a sound as Galatea approached the package that had been left for her upon the single chair. And there, perched atop a familiar wallet was the source that had led them to the hotel, Miria's picture staring back at her upon a single touch of the screen.

"The bathroom's empty." Irene had re-entered the room, Galatea meeting her at the open dungeon door to show her the iphone.

"Damn it," Irene hissed, her hand gripping the bars in frustration as she took the phone, flicked through the call log and found nothing of use.

Galatea meanwhile searched her wallet to assess the damage. The money was gone Miria having helped herself, Galatea's fingers, checking her cards paused upon finding one missing. It was now coming to her attention that a number of her possessions were finding their way into Miria's quick hands at an alarmingly regular rate. Her credit card being the latest to fall victim to the trend.

"Would you care to explain this?" Irene voiced aloud Galatea's thoughts concerning Miria's knack for stealing, the agent turning her attention to the boss and the phone she held.

Perhaps, Galatea reflected she should have turned it off before offering it to her boss as her grip, tightening upon the bars was a sign that Irene was taking the discovery of the wallpaper rather dramatically. The look she received reaffirmed her thoughts as the sound of a car reversing stalled Irene's murderous intentions. Heading for the balcony, Irene was just in time to see her Toyota perform a perfect three point turn before screaming down the street and out of sight.

Closing the dungeon as discreetly as she could, Galatea settled comfortably down on the single chair, her focus that had remained upon the frozen form of her boss distracted by the small piece of paper poking out from the edges of her wallet. A combination of four numbers had been scribbled upon it, each circled. Galatea nearly dropped her wallet upon recognising them. As her pin number stared back at her, the agent registered the small message Miria had left her, the quickly scrawled _"thanks"_ making what was sure to be an expensive credit card bill, a small sacrifice to make. Galatea glanced down at the ring upon her finger confirming it _was_ a very small price indeed. After all, it was sweet of Miria to have had the foresight to leave her with payment in advance.


	11. Chapter 11

Bar Mucha

* * *

><p>AN: Unless my stats deceive me, people are reading this or clicking on this. After my absence I didn't think it possible and so would like to thank anybody who has read this be it present or past.

I extend an even bigger thank you to the reviewers. I really appreciate it.

Unfortunately, this is another extremely long chapter. You could call it Part 2 of the previous update. I promise to create shorter chapters in the future!

With this massive chapter, I feel I must announce that after 67 smirks, 72 mentions of shirts and a whopping eleven chapters that this is indeed the end of the first part of what I think might be shaping up into an extremely long fic.

For anyone who reads on, be it a sentence, word or the whole thing, thank you.

Warning: There is an interrogation scene, a scene which displays my lack of poker knowledge and a very cracked ship. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><em>Authorities face yet another delay in determining the cause of that coastal crash four weeks ago and with many unsure if a crash had even occurred, authorities have yet to find any conclusive evidence beyond the calls of worried members of the public. Anyone with further information is urged….<em>

_During the final week of the campaign both candidates have taken their policies directly to the public with the launch of a series of debates within the public forum. We'll cross live to our reporter. Wendy what has been the response to these debates? We've being hearing reports that there have been some hostile reactions. _

_Indeed Claudia, there was a scuffle between the security of the forum and several groups opposing the policies put forth by the current government. We have received no reports of injuries or arrests but with such a strong negative reaction this can no longer be the opinion of the minority, with the current standings of the candidates based upon the newly released polls putting Vincent Rabona far ahead of his opponent…_

Ignoring the sound of the television that filled the small motel room, Miria crept towards the closed bathroom door and listened intently for the sound of running water. Faint and slightly obscured by the sound of the news bulletin coming from the television, she heard the running shower along with the sound of Hilda's humming. Retreating slowly, the assassin returned to the main room. She stopped in front of the mirror lining the wall above a long counter running the length of the room. The television was positioned at the far end.

Searching within her pocket, Miria withdrew the pack of Marlboro cigarettes she had bought and quickly removed the cellophane which she shoved back into her pocket careful to hide the evidence. Twenty cigarettes greeted her, the Phantom spilling them onto the counter. Examining the closest cigarette's end and finding it blank, she parted it from the others and searched the remaining pile until she found the mark of the familiar symbol of eight strokes. Hurriedly scooping the rest of the cigarettes back into the pack, the assassin made for the door.

Time was short as Hilda was in the habit of taking quick showers and who knew when the room service they had ordered would turn up. Opening the door as quietly as she could, the assassin slipped outside onto the walkway running along the top floor of the motel. Miria was able to look down directly at her parking space and the rented Porsche that occupied it as she leant against the railing. She took out the marked cigarette and unrolling it she carefully separated the tobacco and filter, the cigarette paper now within her hand.

A quick message was scrawled upon it. Miria recognised the writing at once. She was to meet her six hours from now at midnight at a familiar address that would offer them some privacy. Message received, she placed the paper upon the railing, the filter positioned at the end as she began to repack the tobacco, making sure to even out the clumps as she spread the tobacco along the length of the paper. Satisfied, Miria rolled the cigarette and holding it between her fingers removed her lighter. Igniting the flame she watched the note start to burn.

Gazing out over the car park and doing her best to ignore the smell coming from the burning evidence, Miria watched as a young woman carrying a tray, stepped out of reception. Her hair was a striking brown, Miria having taken notice due to its similarity with Hilda's hair colour. The woman began to make her way towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

Glancing down at the still burning cigarette, the assassin leant against the railing trying to look as causal as she could as she heard the sound of feet ascending the stairs. If she could play the part of a guest taking a leisurely smoke outside their room surely the woman wouldn't bother her. Miria's fingers tightened around the cigarette as the woman appeared at the top of the stairs. Turning away, Miria looked down at the still burning cigarette as she silently cursed. How damn long did these take to burn. The approaching sound of footsteps caused Miria to glance up towards the woman, her cigarette hanging awkwardly between her fingers as they regarded each other.

"Dinner for room number twenty four," she shyly announced as Miria glanced at the tray in her hands. The assassin's plans were beginning to fall apart with the arrival of the ordered room service.

"Um…thanks." Miria fumbled, her hand searching for the room keys within her pocket.

The assassin was thankful that she wouldn't have to take a draw from the cigarette in order to keep the illusion alive. Inserting the key, Miria swung the door back allowing the woman to enter. The Phantom kept out of sight just as a precaution, her decision causing her to miss the look of shock that crossed the young woman's face. For whether it had just slipped Miria's mind or their constant presence had become such a part of everyday life, the assassin had left the entire collection stolen from various bondage rooms, that had been vital in the restraint of Hilda during her time on AB, scattered across the double bed. One such pair of handcuffs was thoughtfully clipped to the bed head in preparation for a possible relapse. Hilda chose this particular moment to exit from the shower wrapped in a towel.

"Miria, shower's free," Hilda announced faulting slightly as she realised her mistake. "Oh…you're not, wait you've brought the food."

Hilda smiled at the motel staffer oblivious to the woman's eyes, busy darting from her to the bed and then back to Miria at the door and then down to the cigarette in the assassin's hand. She only seemed to snap out of it when Hilda approached. She hurriedly placed the tray upon the counter and with a quick bow that hid her embarrassment fled the room stumbling out in her eagerness to escape what she had assumed was a private moment.

Miria hardly noticed her sudden departure and she was already halfway down the stairs by the time the stunned assassin recovered from the lack of clothing that greeted her upon Hilda's entrance. The cigarette finally ran its course, the trailing ash dropping to the welcome mat as she continued to stare at her long time companion, Hilda preoccupied with checking the tray. Miria's gaze following her movements, the assassin's eyes trailed over the slight dip in the towel as Hilda leant forward. It was only when her attention turned further south to the exposed legs that the Phantom registered she was enjoying this sight just a little too much. Miria froze upon the realisation of her accompanying thoughts, and blushing bright red, she turned flustered from the view.

Oh no, what the hell was that, the Phantom inwardly groaned as she sought to recover her senses that had been momentarily high jacked by a very unwanted influence. _That _woman would only too gleefully claim credit, Miria sourly thought as her gaze dropped immediately to the cigarette butt in her hand. The Phantom discreetly flicked it over the railing.

"Miria, are you alright?" Hilda asked softly as she stepped forward clearly ignorant of the shock her current state of undress was causing her long time friend.

"I'm fine…just getting some air."

"Are you going to come in for dinner?"

"_Only if you put some clothes on_," Miria silently pleaded, unable to speak for she didn't want Hilda to know just how inappropriate the last few moments had been for her.

After all she'd just done a very good impression of a certain _someone_ and was feeling somewhat ill about it. Tucking her hands in her pockets mindful of the cigarette packet she still had to dispose of, Miria stepped into their small room but lingered at the door. Hilda seemed to finally pick up on her discomfort as with a quiet laugh she told Miria she'd be back as she retreated to the bathroom leaving the assassin alone with her thoughts. Staring at the mirror, Miria faltered as she noted her reflection and more importantly the reflection from the double bed. She turned to confirm the pile of handcuffs and chains.

_She was really going to have to learn how to hide them better_, she silently berated herself.

* * *

><p>This must be the fifth time since setting foot in the room that Raftela had attempted to escape from her hospital bed, thought Dietrich, doing her best intimation of their boss, as she crossed her arms in what she hoped was a menacing pose.<p>

"Dietrich." Raftela was talking to her using her best therapy voice, while currently in the process of climbing over the bed rails.

Her progress was hampered by the brace protecting her recent hand surgery and she was unable to haul herself over the rail singlehandedly.

"Could you please move." The request was spoken in her familiar professional tone as if she were inquiring about Dietrich's wellbeing, a courtesy that had always been undertaken at the start of each of their weekly therapy sessions.

"Could you please accept the fact that you've been injured," Dietrich countered. Raftela stopped her attempts at escape and angrily fell back upon her pillow.

"I need to interrogate Orsay, it's the least I can do to help."

"You need…" Dietrich began to fix the messy sheets, "to recover before you even think about interrogating people. You couldn't hold your scalpel in your current condition."

"There's nothing wrong with my left hand."

"You're suddenly ambidextrous, are you?" Dietrich asked amused, and satisfied with the sheets, she resumed her seat, the laptop she had left upon it now balanced upon her knee.

"We're losing valuable time. Whatever information Orsay has is already a month old and the more we delay…"

"The boss is undertaking the interrogation of the package," Dietrich informed her, as she continued staring at the laptop's screen while hacking into the records system of the hospital.

Out of respect, Irene had informed the administrator of the remote hospital which continued to treat the Ghosts for whatever wounds they brought to the emergency wing, that she wanted all access codes to their security system. Irene had also given Dietrich strict orders to erase all mention of the Ghosts from the system, and although the access codes had been reluctantly given up, Dietrich had decided to ignore the codes. After all it was always best to test a security system.

"Your rehabilitation progress is remarkable but the full recovery to the motor functions of those re-attached fingers isn't going to happen overnight."

Dietrich's gaze briefly flickered back to the screen as the final file was erased.

"Have you found her?" Raftela asked deciding to change the subject as she gestured towards the laptop while Dietrich moved her seat to allow the interrogator to see the screen.

"I lost the Chameleon but the Phantom has been leaving quite a trail to follow."

Upon the screen was a copy of Galatea's credit card statement. The most recent purchase was highlighted showing the name of the love hotel and the suburb where it was located, Raftela taking note of the previous entries. For the last month there had been seventeen love hotel visits broken up with the occasional trip to the supermarket and the odd rented car.

"I knew I should have done a psychological evaluation on the Phantom."

"It's almost identical to Galatea's own past statements," Dietrich agreed, a slight tint of pink making its way to her cheeks as she mumbled. "I mean between the two of them I don't think there's a love hotel left in our area that hasn't seen that credit card."

"This is for today," Raftela tapped upon the recent purchase. "Who was assigned?"

"Teresa and Galatea with the Toulouse pair back at base for support."

"What about Rabona's daughter?"

"Deneve was assigned there temporarily. Galatea will head to Toulouse after she completes the current assignment. But I've been tasked by the boss to ask you about Deneve."

Another window was opened upon the laptop's screen this time showing Raftela's report.

"Judging from this you reported the drug was injected via the removal of Orsay's tracker. When we removed the tracker from Deneve…"

"The drug would have injected straight into her system and she would have displayed symptoms," Raftela finished her sentence, the interrogator now understanding where Dietrich was leading with the sudden mention of the forger. "No, I'd say the change to the tracker is fairly recent."

"We secured Deneve a year ago, what about the Phantom's tracker?" Dietrich wondered aloud as she attempted to build a timeline concerning the possible distribution of the drug.

The more time they gave Staff to complete an even more powerful version of AB, the greater the possibility of another incident similar to the one that had brought many a current Ghost to their cause. Dietrich was thankful that she had only heard the tales of the Ghosts' first encounter and subsequent battle to rid the drug from the market.

"I can't vouch for validity," Raftela spoke again, "But the Phantom removed her tracker six months prior to our first contact with her. Her own words exactly. Whether she experienced the symptoms, I don't know."

Once again everything returned to the Phantom, Operation Claymore and now the drug AB. It might have saved them a great deal of time Raftela noted sourly if they had just interrogated her from the start.

"We need to find the Phantom. If we can narrow down the location where she could next appear we have a higher chance of apprehending her. We need to work on a psychological profile. She's eluded us for the past four weeks and I don't intend to make it a fifth…"

Raftela trailed off as she grabbed the closest thing to write on. Turning the food menu over she began scribbling possible theories as to the cause of the Phantom's abrupt departure. Opening her laptop Dietrich placed it in front of Raftela and pointed towards the keyboard. The interrogator abandoned her illegible list.

"Were the civilians from Hotel Pieta further compromised?" Raftela asked as her left hand slowly retyped the causes.

"Unfortunately, Orsay's tracker gave them the location. After you called, I alerted Deneve. They just managed to get clear before Staff raided the place."

"Where are they now?"

"It's classified…" Dietrich trailed off uncertain. "I couldn't go against orders and reveal it."

"Dietrich," Raftela gently coaxed her, her gaze no longer upon the screen. "_Where _are the civilians?"

"I'm under orders not to talk about it."

Dietrich took the laptop back balancing it once again upon her knee. Unable to maintain eye contact, Dietrich looked away as she typed a single word at the end of Raftela's unfinished list before placing it back in front of the interrogator.

"The chef was settled in Toulouse?"

"There's something you're not telling me," Dietrich murmured as she gave the briefest of nods. "What's so important about the chef?"

Raftela returned to her one hand typing, Dietrich huffing slightly at the obvious avoidance of her question.

"Is this one of your psychological things?"

"Cynthia and Galatea haven't had their post mission debrief," Raftela explained. "From what I gather both of them were emotionally compromised."

"I wouldn't worry too much about Galatea," Dietrich muttered, her face instantly reddening as she realised she'd just spoken aloud.

"She's seems fine…just a bit more…" Dietrich trailed off suddenly very self conscious as Raftela's gaze zeroed in on her.

"A bit more…" Raftela urged. Dietrich was conscious that her face was betraying her again as Raftela's expression and tone of voice had indicated her concern.

"Well I don't really know how to put it…Just really more…forward?"

Raftela leaned back upon her pillow, the raised pressure mattress allowing her to maintain eye contact with Dietrich, the hacker seeing within the interrogator's gaze something akin to mutual understanding. With a voice full of sincere sympathy Raftela put the hacker's jumbled thoughts into a single coherent sentence.

"You mean she's more…"

* * *

><p>Desperate. It was the only way to describe the scene in front of her Teresa decided as she cradled her phone to her ear, Irene's voice filtering through the other end as the boss updated her on the Orsay situation. But then Galatea seemed to ignite or at least attract that quality in her partners past and potential. What a flirt, Teresa silently observed as Galatea ducked under the desk to retrieve the purposely dropped pen, her hand meeting the receptionist's hand, the both of them having reached for the fallen object at the same time.<p>

"Did you make contact with the Phantom?" Irene asked inadvertently drawing her agent back to the phone.

"She'd cleared out by the time we got to the hotel," Teresa paused. "Yes, no traces except for the usual."

She glanced around the hire car's reception area. Being a few doors down from the large hotel which catered to a constant stream of travelling business customers, this particular outlet's convenient location was well frequented by the hotel's patrons. If the small desk just wide enough for a laptop could still be classified as a desk, at least Galatea was no longer underneath it in the pretence of searching for lost pens. Although, she was sure that there had been more space between them the last time she'd looked. Teresa's amusement nearly caused her to miss Irene's latest question.

"No, the Phantom had already paid for the room," Teresa answered. "She left us a car this time around. A rental, we thought we should return it before heading back. I agree it could be a potential lead."

It could be if Galatea bothered to remember what they were originally here for. But judging from the direction the number three's gaze had taken it seemed as if she had found something far more interesting to follow. The retrieved pen in Galatea's hand came to an abrupt stop. Her gaze had been diverted downwards as the receptionist leaned forward to help her with the paperwork.

"You just need…" the receptionist trailed off as she shifted closer to Galatea, aware that she could still offer God Eye a better view.

She looked up innocently at the agent as she trailed her fingers along Galatea's wrist, her caress ending as her fingers left skin to tap upon the line that needed a signature.

" ….to sign right here and we'll be happy to refund you."

"I might be tempted to take you up on that offer," Galatea murmured as she moved to flip to the next page of the contract, her gaze still fixed upon the open buttons of the receptionist's blouse.

As her gaze strayed from the contract, Galatea discreetly raised it to obscure the terribly distracting view. For there were conditions to be read and all hopes of understanding them lost as her worryingly short attention span was yet again snatched away, her gaze travelling upwards as she managed to meet the flirtatious eyes of the receptionist.

"Your company would be happy to charge me only for the days I used the car, correct?" Galatea asked for further confirmation. The receptionist responding by slowly plucking the pen from her fingers, her hands lingering a second too long before she withdrew.

"My company would be happy to only charge you for the two days of use and waiver the bill for the other five you previously ordered," the receptionist told her. She twirled the pen with her fingers before she tapped it against her lips.

"I on the other hand…."

The pen made its way to the corner of her mouth as she continued.

"…I'd rather charge you on account of your rather noticeable interest."

"I'd plead guilty." Galatea reached forward, her fingers lightly brushing against the cheek of the receptionist.

"If only we hadn't both been caught doing the same thing."

Closing her fingers around the pen, Galatea reclaimed it, the agent signing the document. She gave the keys a twirl around her finger before she dropped them on the desk with a smirk. Taking one last look before she read the nametag pinned to the receptionist's blouse, Galatea leaned closer to whisper.

"I did enjoy your little trick with the pen, Lily."

"You noticed?"

"Unfortunately from the start, but I have no regrets about the deception."

Galatea looked down at the small desk, it's clear surface allowing the customer to see straight through and be rewarded with the sight of very long and very shapely legs. Galatea was now well acquainted with them from her brief journey under the desk but Lily made sure she held the agent's full attention by running her fingers along her smooth skin, only stopping at the knee as she was now close enough to whisper into the agent's ear in as seductive a voice as she could conjure.

"I'll look forward to seeing you next week then, when the Porsche is due."

"Porsche?" Galatea asked in mild interest, the agent distracted by the sudden closeness, her hand inching forward. She distracted herself with the pen instead as Lily happily elaborated.

"The one you ordered just this morning for the next seven days."

"Oh, _that_ Porsche," Galatea glanced back at Teresa who still lounged on one of the many couches littered throughout the reception.

Galatea's attention quickly returned to Lily upon feeling the receptionist's hands sneak in another touch. Perhaps, she had encouraged her far too much but then flirting was one of the quickest ways of getting information and all in all it hadn't been that bad. She just really didn't trust herself any further seeing that her hand was now closer to Lily than she thought and seemed to be no longer occupied in playing with the pen. Galatea dropped the pen to turn the ring upon her finger, the diamonds that she had been hiding now in full view. Lily was just about to tease Galatea further when she noticed and dropped her hands back to her side as the agent gave her an apologetic smile.

"Would it be possible to get the registration number of the Porsche you just mentioned?"

"Runaway fiancée?" Lily asked as she accessed her laptop to find the information just as Teresa began to make her way over, the phone call to Irene now finished.

"Just a minor misunderstanding," Galatea brushed it off. "Her sister's very worried."

Just as Teresa reached them, Lily found the registration number and taking Galatea's wrist, the receptionist leisurely wrote the number on the back of her hand. A loud beep saved Galatea, the screen of her phone which she had left upon the reception flashing briefly before going dark. Teresa's faint all knowing smile widened a fraction as she reached to slide the phone towards Galatea.

God Eye checked the notification displaying the most recent purchase charged to her credit card just under three minutes ago. A frown forming as she re-read the vaguely familiar name of the establishment, Galatea swore aloud as she connected the name with its location. She bolted for the exit as she realised Miria was just across the street from the hotel. The Phantom however, was long gone by the time she arrived.

* * *

><p>That one had come a little too close for comfort, the slight stinging to his shoulder confirming the scalpel had nicked him on its way past. Orsay looked down at the handcuffs and shackles that bound him to the chair before he took in the rest of the small room and the large table across from him upon which rested a single blank sheet of paper and pencil. His eyes glanced downwards at the plastic bag that had been discarded on the floor.<p>

He squinted to read the green logo upon it, the shade bringing to mind the contents of the sauce dish that sat oddly out of place at one end of the table. A blob of wasabi covered the crane design embossed on the dish in glittering gold. An identical sauce dish, a stack of cups and a ceramic bottle and two plates made up the rest of the table setting. His two interrogators regarded him in silence.

The women were proudly revealing their faces as if they knew they were respectively ranked one and two on the list of Staff's most wanted. Black hair fell past the shoulders of one of the women, framing a face that was never devoid of a faint smile, a final insult to the many opponents she'd felled over the years as if each attempt on her life only warranted a mild interest on her part. Orsay starting to sweat as it seemed as if his very presence was too insignificant to even be graced with her usual demeanour. The woman ignored him and with an impassive face she poured soy sauce into the empty sauce dish.

Her companion was likewise disinterested. Her eyes were as sharp as her ears that peeked out from beneath her long blonde hair and her gaze seemed to come from the icy depths where it had set up permanent residence. Her very demeanour was one that screamed dangerous. The scalpel twirled between her fingers was handled with the same assurance with which one would use a pen. The blade stopping mid twirl pointed straight at him. Orsay's eyes involuntarily snapped shut as she let it fly.

There was no rush of pain from a throw that had come so close, just the faint whistling of the blade and a dull thud as it hit the board in front of him. Orsay opened his eyes just in time to see the faint smile of victory. The agent, whose name was often used to strike fear within the insubordinate ranks of Staff, reached forward and as her hand closed around the prize she withdrew the chopsticks from the paper packet. In the moment that followed she neatly split the chopsticks apart and with a lighting precision that Orsay admitted he couldn't quite follow captured a piece of tuna from the plate of sashimi on the table. Of a rich dark red, the colour indicative of its high quality, the piece was carried towards the waiting soy sauce ready to be dipped when a voice rang out.

"Cheating during the first round?"

Her voice was as cold as her gaze. The woman with the elf-like ears the one who led the formidable Seven Ghosts and whose dossier had named her as Irene sounded completely miffed at her companion's unscrupulous playing.

"Oh, do we need to revise the rules because I'm quite sure I happen to be following them?"

The baiting edge to her faintly surprised tone sent a chill down Orsay's spine.

"Soy sauce and wasabi is only included if you get an inner bullseye," Irene patiently explained.

"Which is why I happen to be collecting my prize," Teresa responded further drawing Irene's ire as she got around to dipping the tuna in the soy sauce.

"Our agreement was that of an _inner_ bullseye not an _outer _bullseye which is what you got."

"I hit the board square in the middle."

"You got it on the line," Irene argued rising from her chair to make her way to Orsay and the dartboard in front of him.

With two scalpels embedded in the board, Teresa took advantage of Irene's inspection to add the wasabi to the tuna and leisurely ate the piece. Her companion turned triumphantly as upon withdrawing a blade from the middle of the board, the small hole revealed that it was indeed upon the line. As Irene returned to her place, her triumph vanished the second she saw traces of soy sauce within the green wasabi.

"Would it kill you to play by the rules for once in your life?"

Despite a glare that Orsay was sure even _he_ would have trembled under, he detected the slightest trace of affection. And as if sensing the dangerous turn his thoughts had taken the fourth scalpel whistled towards the board. Orsay yelped as it thudded square into the middle, the board the only thing stopping it from piercing through his heart, the accuracy clearing all further doubts.

"You're such a terrible nitpicker. Do you want the amberjack or the mackerel?"

"Amberjack, wait what are you doing?"

Orsay quickly looked away from the board, all his senses screaming that there was probably another scalpel on the way. A glance at the table confirmed the morbid thought. It was enough to make him feel sick as he took in the neat row of scalpels that lined the edge. His frightened gaze travelled towards Teresa who was thankfully occupied with the soy sauce. With her hand held underneath the amberjack to catch the excess dripping sauce, she offered it to Irene whose vision went slightly crossed eyed as she registered the sudden appearance of the fish. Her gaze travelled from the amberjack towards the owner of the chopsticks inches from her face. Orsay's eyes flickering between them as Irene clenched her jaw.

"I'll use my own chopsticks, thank you."

"I'm afraid they only provided one pack."

"What? Why didn't you ask for more?"

"The waitress was a little preoccupied."

"Why that damn stupid…" she was cut short as Teresa used the opportunity to shove the piece into her mouth, Irene chewing thoughtfully.

"This is not bad, where did you get this again?"

"That shop down on Thirty Sixth Street."

Orsay followed the conversation with his eyes switching between the two women. The short interlude in his interrogation was coming to an end and he gulped as Irene reached for another scalpel.

"What were the numbers for the mackerel?"

"Numbers one and two."

Even with all the training Staff had forced him to undertake Orsay couldn't help the small whimper that left him as the blade sailed towards his stomach before hitting the board to score a two. Teresa acknowledged the accuracy of the triple ring hit by offering the chopsticks to Irene. As per the rules of their game she was allowed both wasabi and soy sauce with her mackerel.

"I might go for the nineteen," Teresa mused, oblivious to Orsay's transfixed stare that followed each twirl the scalpel made within her hands.

"I completely forgot. We could play for the saké."

"Saké?" Orsay broke his silence his voice trembling. "What do you mean play for the saké?"

"Should we make it a double?" Teresa challenged.

The fire of competition was already in Irene's eyes as Orsay feebly tried to draw their attention.

"Aren't you going to ask me questions?"

"Triple rings or double rings?" Irene ignored him as she remained unflinching despite Teresa leaning closer to her.

"Can you handle the triple rings?"

"Shall we let skill decide?"

"If we base it on skill alone, I'd have to wish you all the luck in the world."

"I don't need luck when it comes to matching you."

"Then let's make it a round, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen and sixteen. In that order and all triple rings."

They both were insane Orsay swore as Irene let the next scalpel go, her attention still focused on Teresa. Teresa looked away to check the score. Irene had hit the nineteen triple ring as promised.

"You have improved." The respect was evident in Teresa's voice as she readied her own blade and following Irene's lead threw it towards the board without a glance.

The sound of metal against metal as her blade embedded itself next to Irene's scalpel was remarkably similar to the sound that escaped Orsay's throat. The two women however, were oblivious to his woes. Irene parted two of the ceramic cups from the stack and pushed them towards Teresa who poured out the saké. Teresa's gaze was fixed upon the rice wine being poured into Irene's cup as she causally tossed her next shot hitting the eighteen triple ring square in the middle. Filling her own cup, Teresa tapped it against Irene's own.

"Good luck, darling."

This time Irene's blade missed its target thumping into eighteen double ring. Orsay renewed his attempts to attract their attention with far more vigour as Teresa reached to refill their cups even with Irene's apparent loss.

"You do know how important I am to Staff operations, don't you? There must be something you want to ask me."

Teresa and Irene exchanged glances, the former replying before they returned to their drinks.

"No, not particularly."

"I'll answer anything, I swear," Orsay pleaded, the cuffs that secured him to the chair falling silent as he ended his struggle upon seeing Irene's fingers halt upon another scalpel.

"We could start with Operation Claymore." Irene relented, her hand moving away from the blade as Orsay nodded frantically in agreement.

"Although," Teresa cut in, her attention focused upon the platter in front of them, "We've just barely started dinner."

Teresa chose the same blade from the table and as she readied her throw, Orsay, finding himself once again on the receiving end of the Ghost's mercy, let out a terrified squeal.

"Clare!" He shouted. "Her name's Clare. She's one of Dae's projects that went insane. She took off half his face!"

Teresa lowered the blade a few inches, Orsay quickly scrambling to provide her with more information.

"I just get the orders and send the personnel where they're needed. Believe me if I knew more about her I'd tell you but that's all I know. I don't know what he was doing with her and what even happened to her after that."

"I thought you were in charge of communications."

He turned to Irene who had spoken, the corner of his eye still trained upon Teresa as the blade was still in her hand its surface now inspected with an air of disinterest.

"I only receive them and act on them. Ermita knows more than I do."

"Ermita, the one with the niece?"

"Yes, him!" Venom laced Orsay's voice. "He's always trying to act like he's not one of us that he's not involved with illicit dealings."

"Do you work for him?"

"I just take orders from him and the other two."

"Who are these other two?"

"Rimuto he's in charge and Rubel." Orsay supplied the names as the more information he gave the higher his chances were of survival.

"What do you do for Rubel?"

Teresa had asked her first question. Orsay forced himself to look her in the eye as he begged her to understand his position.

"I swear I only monitored them and if he gave the all clear I'd take them."

"Take who?"

If Irene's voice had seemed cold before, the coldness from Teresa's eclipsed it in an instant. Orsay shrank backwards.

"The kids for his orphanage."

"What happens to these kids?"

"Ermita, he goes there every year and selects them to put into a training program," Orsay whispered swallowing as her gaze seemed to bore into him.

"Then he puts them through elimination stages and only four go through to become assassins."

"Only four survive out of how many?"

"I don't know," Orsay attempted to throw his hands up in surrender but the cuffs cut his movements short. "The numbers fluctuate from year to year."

"What's happens to those who aren't selected."

"They go to Dae and I really don't want to know what happens to them," Orsay turned to Irene imploring her with the knowledge he knew from her file. "You know Dae, you know what he's like with his experimenting."

"Is it just the orphanage in Lacroa?"

"No," Orsay let out a strangled breath. "He's got them all over the place."

His eyes snapped shut as Teresa came towards him and with her breath upon his ear, she spoke her demands.

"I'm going to need three lists from you. One detailing all of Rubel's orphanages, the second, of all the places you know that are manufacturing AB and thirdly, a list of your dealers and suppliers of that drug."

Orsay's eyes snapped open, his mouth running before his brain could catch up.

"I didn't know about it. Believe me I didn't know about the tracker injecting AB. I don't want to turn into a monster like them."

In an instant he knew just why her file contained that single fact, the edges of Teresa's lips forming into a faint smile.

"Then you better hope Staff doesn't find you."

"You're not leaving me to fend for myself," Orsay whispered in disbelief.

Teresa drew his attention towards the pencil and piece of paper on the table that throughout the interrogation had remained untouched.

"If you want to change my mind then start writing."

She didn't need to further elaborate and grabbing the back of Orsay's chair, she viciously pulled it across the floor towards the table. Ignoring the pain in his wrists as the handcuffs dug into them, Orsay grabbed the pencil and began frantically scribbling. He was totally oblivious to Irene leaving the table to answer a call from Agent Apple. Gesturing for Teresa to follow her outside, the two locked the door behind them. The chamber they had built for Raftela had a single one way glass pane through which they could observe Orsay who hadn't even noticed their departure. The Staff member was still scribbling upon the page.

"I'm leaving you in charge. They've tracked the license plate. I'll direct the mission from upstairs. I trust you can keep an eye on him?"

"It won't be too hard," Teresa murmured. "He's surprisingly easy to break. It's just a pity we had to sacrifice the rest of the food. Though I do have one little question."

The tapping of Irene's foot told Teresa to hurry with her inquiry.

"I'd like to know just why there was water in my saké bottle?"

"Alcohol would have affected our aim. We could have taken off his ear."

Irene's voice gave nothing away but Teresa didn't miss the slightly guilty shift the boss made as if she was angling herself into a better position that would allow for a swifter exit.

"I don't think he'll need them after they get through with him." Teresa glanced over her shoulder to see Orsay still frantically scribbling. "But they are in a way useful."

It was very amusing and perhaps there was the tiniest chance that it could turn into a delightful habit but she swore that the second she had closed the space between them, Irene had stiffened. Teresa was unable to stop herself from a further experiment as she murmured conspiratorially to her.

"To be truthful, I knew before I even tried the saké that you were just playing at being the bad guy."

"I don't play such games."

"Pity. You _do_ play it rather well," Teresa praised her as she continued, her voice unintentionally growing softer.

"Irene, I don't think you've noticed just what happens when you drink and that's why I knew straight away that you'd tampered with the bottle."

It was so satisfying for one to verify their Intel as through the strands of blonde, there was now a noticeable pink.

"The tips of your ears turn pink when you drink even if it's only one glass."

"When...when did you discover this?"

It was also so very satisfying to hear Irene becoming flustered.

"I can't take full credit but Gala is surprisingly good at observation." Teresa happily informed her.

She missed whatever it was that Irene muttered but one shouldn't expect to discover everything at once.

"You're too easily influenced by her," Irene sighed.

The pink of her ears yet to subside, Teresa made them a shade darker as she leaned closer to whisper.

"It's quite remarkable really how easily your ears turn pink when you're embarrassed."

Drawing away from the stunned Irene, Teresa patted her on the shoulder as she left to complete her mission, the number one calling back over her shoulder.

"Just thought I'd let you know."

As the door closed behind her, Irene finally snapped out of her trance and with a curse directed straight at her number three, stomped her way upstairs.

* * *

><p>Luck was being a fickle friend tonight, Hysteria Rabona realised as the king she had just been dealt busted her hand. So much then for a change of game being the solution to her woes. For going from poker to twenty-one hadn't exactly gotten her out of the rut she'd fallen into since agreeing to pass the time playing cards. Not that she'd been given much of a choice. As boredom weighed her down, the vacation time she had complained about needing had lost its appeal, especially when one happened to be stuck living within the same four walls.<p>

Twenty-one again! Maybe, she wondered, the cards themselves were marked as the person across from her had just won her fourth consecutive hand. It would definitely help with her injured pride if it were true. Hysteria tossed her hand over. The cards were slipped into the deck and quickly shuffled. The daughter of Vincent Rabona tossed back the shot of vodka as the deck now passed to her. Hysteria flicked two cards from the top towards her bodyguard. Or was that babysitter? These two job descriptions seemed to alternate as her two previous minders had been much more relaxed and communicative.

A tap upon the table drew her attention as her companion signalled for another card. This one was definitely not a conversationalist. Hysteria briefly wondering if the woman across from her had even spoken a single word since arriving. Hysteria flicked over the requested card. But then maybe there was an inkling of a sense of companionship between them, for surely two people locked within a fifth floor penthouse with only a pool table, a pack of cards, several bottles of the good stuff and a nearby spa to entertain them would come to some kind of mutual understanding.

Hell, she'd only known the last two for a little over a month and here she was missing them. Especially the one whose motor mouth she had countered both a curse and a blessing. Even the curly haired one had managed to make an impression and Hysteria was slightly worried that she had been privy to several facts that as a stranger she felt uneasy about knowing. But then she could hardly be blamed for overhearing the girl singing in the shower.

"You never told me your name." Hysteria struck up a conversation as she decided to play it safe with her current hand.

"Nineteen," her companion murmured, concentrating on her cards as she revealed them.

"Your parents run out of ideas when they named you?"

Hysteria flicked over her own cards revealing her losing hand. Maybe things were turning around. She'd only lost by one point.

"Deneve," her companion responded as she deliberated over which drink to take, her hand closing around the bourbon.

Deneve poured Hysteria another shot. Perhaps they should be playing for money, Hysteria thought as she felt the familiar lightness which signalled she'd hit her limit. It would be amusing if Deneve happened to have a fondness for alcohol as the poor girl had yet to get a chance to even take a sip. Whether it was boredom or the alcohol messing with her system, Hysteria continued talking.

"What did you do to draw the babysitting card?"

"I owed a favour to the wrong girl."

"That same one who just left after growing tired of boring holes in the back of your head?' Hysteria asked lazily.

The reaction she had been hoping for disappointingly mute as Deneve let out a sigh.

"Subtle was never one of her strong points."

Maybe it was time to change tactics in a bid for freedom for while daddy's name was a ticket to the most exclusive places Hysteria still didn't want to use it in vain.

"Are you the elite part of daddy's security squad?"

Deneve recoiled slightly at the amount of alcohol on Hysteria's breath as she was now able to smell it, the girl having used the conversation to crawl closer to her. The forger noticeably stiffened as she ascertained that a wall made of three pillows was now the only barrier between them, Hysteria having successfully backed her into a corner of the couch.

"Depends on what you've been told, Miss Rabona."

"Your insistence on my title gives it away. Call me Hysteria."

"I'd like to keep our association on a professional level."

"Straight laced right to the end." Hysteria practically purred as she breached the wall, her hand making circles on Deneve's knee. "Or is it that two girls embarking on a bit of fun isn't your thing?"

"You don't exactly fit my preferences."

"Now that's a first but I'll let it slide as you clearly don't know just how lucky you are. It's not every day I pay attention to the hired help."

"I'm just here to play cards Miss Rabona," Deneve insisted as she put down her cards showing her losing hand.

Untangling herself from Deneve, Hysteria poured the forger a much needed drink. Deneve took advantage of her preoccupation to switch to the chair opposite which placed the coffee table between them. Well, this was turning into quite the obstacle she didn't feel like surmounting. Hysteria pushed the glass across the table assessing her options as the door to the penthouse opened and in stepped a tall blonde. Hysteria's eyes became transfixed upon her. About time someone interesting and far more in line with her type walked in! The edges of her lips curled in anticipation. Forget navigating around the coffee table and continuing with the serious girl, she'd much rather take her chances with this one.

* * *

><p>Porsche. Check. Interior, empty. Check. License plate. Check. Nearby love hotel, double check. Surely she couldn't be the only one who found it strange that there was a building shaped like a UFO which had seemingly dropped from the sky onto the corner of the busy intersection where it was ignored by traffic and the crowds of people who walked by without the blinking of an eye. Flora chalked it up to the mood of the city. She pointed up at the glowing sign blinking at the entrance of the UFO announcing the hotel was open for business. Helen raced ahead, phone in hand as she excitedly updated Irene on the current situation.<p>

For despite having found the latest rented car the Phantom had charged to Galatea's credit card, they had yet to find the elusive driver. Helen charged into the darkened foyer and barrelling towards the selection board her eyes quickly scanned the rooms available.

"She likes the bondage rooms doesn't she?" Helen shouted into the phone, the agent forgetting it was on speaker.

Flora winced as her loud voice boomed around the thankfully deserted foyer and reached for the phone afraid it would slip from Helen's hand at any moment. Her partner unintentionally darted away as in her excitement she checked for the bondage room number.

"Yeah, I got it. Room number fourteen…" Helen trailed off as a confused look crossed her face, the phone hanging limply in her grip upon seeing the green light above the selection.

"Umm…boss it's kinda empty…"

"Agent Apple," Irene's voice rang clearly from the phone, the menace in her tone promising a pay cut upon their return. "Search the other rooms and find her."

"What?" Helen cried as she looked to Flora for support who was now gesturing for the phone. "You want us to search all the rooms in this hotel?"

"Boss, could we call you back?" Flora asked politely as she pointedly ignored Apple who was furiously shaking her head trying to convey to the diva that now would be a good time to shut up.

"We'll update you as soon as we find the Phantom," Flora promised, her partner letting out a strangled cry as Flora ended the call without giving Irene a chance to respond.

"Did you just hang up on the boss?"

Helen seemed torn between admiration and petulance because if Flora had taken notice of her they still might have being able to look forward to their next pay check. Not that Irene bothered paying a part-timer like Flora but for someone who was supposedly diplomatic enough to at least get an official mention of it in her file, Flora had done a poor job of reassuring Irene. But at least the diva didn't dwell on battles lost for she was already punching in a number before impatiently waiting for the call to connect and praying that just this once she would pick up. The sixth ring cut off as a familiar voice greeted her.

"Who did you bribe for my number, Apple?"

"Oi!" Helen rushed to defend herself as Flora tried to hide her smile upon hearing the typical response.

"It's Flora, Gala."

"Oh," Galatea's voice seemed to brighten instantly. "Well that improves things considerably. When were you going to tell me you still had my work number?"

"I didn't want to stroke your ego."

"Darling," Galatea sighed wistfully. "That's not the type of stroke I was looking for."

Maybe it was time to take the phone off speaker as Helen was looking at her with a slightly arched brow. Flora whispered for Apple to mind her own business as she brought the phone to her ear to continue the conversation in a far more discreet manner. For it was rare for Galatea to sound so melancholy. All thoughts of the mission took a backseat as Flora was unable to stop from voicing her worry.

"Gala, are you alright? You sound…you sound terrible."

"I haven't scored in a while," Galatea admitted softly after a pause that was worryingly a second too long. "My technique's just not working and my hands aren't getting anywhere."

"It could just be a temporary problem," Flora whispered moving away from the intrigued Helen, for this sounded very serious indeed.

"I'm sure you'll get it back…you're an expert at it after all."

"You're right," Galatea agreed. "I could always cheat. She wouldn't know."

With Flora's reassurance, the current seven and two she had been dealt by Deneve while not the best starting cards, considering they were now playing poker, suddenly didn't seem all that bad. God Eye's attention was drawn back to her phone just in time to hear Flora murmur rather snappishly.

"I bet the Phantom's quite used to that by now." The diva's tone turned all business as she continued. "Gala, I need your expertise on love hotels."

"Pick any room but the bondage room" Galatea told her pausing to fold her losing hand. "It's not worth the experience, well not with the boss anyway."

"Now I know just why Irene reassigned you to Toulouse, God Eye."

Flora's disappointed tone of voice coupled with her use of Galatea's call sign meant that the agent's casual remark had hit a nerve. There was a touch of iciness as the diva spoke again.

"I'm actually in the process of hunting down your Phantom which is why I called."

"I take it your bondage room's empty?"

"Yes, and I could do with some help in narrowing down the options."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

_Really_, Flora silently berated herself. She should have known that melancholy was incapable of keeping Galatea within its grip. The diva quickly began giving her the names of the occupied rooms. Galatea stopped her after the first row having already come to her conclusion concerning Miria's current room choice.

"She's in number nine."

"Don't you want to hear the other options?"

"There no need," Galatea informed her. "She's in that room."

"That's your pick…Mission Control?" Flora had paused before reading the name, the diva having to squint at the screen to read the flowery print.

"It's a name that would appeal to her," Galatea explained glancing up as Deneve signalled her.

As God Eye pushed her shot glass forward for the winner to pour her a drink from the newly opened bottle of whiskey, she watched Hysteria fumbling as she tried to shuffle the deck.

"You do know you're meant to convince me with your logic."

"It's the word control," Galatea patiently explained to Flora. "Someone who loves to dominate and I'm quite experienced when it comes to Miria's tendencies, wouldn't be able to resist."

Her reasoning was met with a low beep confirming that Flora had disconnected the call. Galatea returned her phone to her pocket with a smirk and shifted upon the couch to pick up her cards as her opponents were still waiting on her move. Galatea folded having grown bored of the game and left Deneve to win the hand. Pouring Hysteria a drink, Deneve leaned over the coffee table to flick Galatea's cards over. They revealed an envious starting hand.

"You're not one to fold with a hand like this," Deneve observed.

Galatea looked thoughtfully at her over the rim of her shot glass and downed the whiskey before she baited Deneve with a single wink.

"I'm going to need more of an incentive if you want me to play properly."

"How much do you want to bet?"

"How much of your clothing are you willing to lose?"

Deneve shoved the pack towards her and rising to her feet she headed for the stairs leading to the upstairs bedrooms.

"I don't play that kind of poker. Pack up the deck when you've finished."

Smirking, Galatea drew the deck towards her as Deneve disappeared up the stairs. She shuffled the cards out of habit until Hysteria Rabona moved closer and occupied Deneve's vacant armchair. Hysteria, she noted, was offering all the incentive the agent needed as her jacket slid from her shoulders to drop casually to the floor.

"I don't mind keeping you company for a few rounds."

Hysteria emphasised the offer with the crossing of her legs, the movement slipping the already short skirt back a few inches. Galatea straightened from her slumped position to assess her new opponent. Her gaze settled on the teasing glimpse of the black strap which, peeking through the open buttons of the blouse, decided God Eye on her course of action. Four rounds would be enough. The agent dealt the cards as Hysteria leant forward to collect her hand. Six rounds, Galatea silently re-assessed the situation, perhaps more if the view continued its rapid rate of improvement.

* * *

><p>Three doors down from the room that Flora and Helen had just charged recklessly into, Phantom Miria was still adjusting to the overall strangeness that greeted her behind the door of room number nine. Above her head glittered a ceiling of stars, their soft glow serving as the only source of light within the darkened room. While appearing randomly spaced they drew to a concentrated cluster, the combined light from the stars sending an almost ethereal glow down upon the lone double bed. The bed itself was round in shape and in keeping with the space theme, was covered in a deep purple duvet decorated with yellow stars. Its two very ordinary white pillows were glaringly out of place as the headboard above them had been built to resemble the outer appearance of a space shuttle. Miria paused in her exploration to read the small name printed in neat letters upon the wing.<p>

Mission Control. It was the same name as the love hotel room that had been selected for the meeting. Miria took a final glance around as she waited for her companion. Briefly looking at the painted walls that gave off the illusion of drifting through the vastness of space, her gaze finally settled on the back of the now closed door and the two still figures that stood guard on either side. To the left and the first thing one saw upon entering the room was a perfect replica of a space suit with its accompanying helmet. And on the right, taking advantage of the darkness was the imposter, the assassin having already sensed their presence.

"You're still as impulsive as ever," Miria greeted her. "What was the delicate matter you couldn't mention in your last message?"

"It's nice to see you again, Miria."

Her companion returned the greeting as she moved closer, ducking slightly to avoid a collision with the overhanging decorations that made navigation around the room an absolute nightmare.

"I know meeting in person is dangerous, but I needed to warn you."

"Are you being tailed?"

"It's only a matter of time" Miria's companion replied. Having reached the assassin's position, the light from the glowing stars outlined her distinctive bobbed hair.

"Galk's been compromised."

"Staff?" A sense of urgency entered Miria's voice.

"I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt as I'm sure you would have told us if Staff was on our tail. But upon seeing who killed him, I'm convinced it's another organisation all together."

She reached within her overcoat withdrawing her phone as Miria processed the sudden information, a sense of dread settling within her stomach.

"Have you got confirmation he's dead?"

"He's missed the scheduled check in," she replied searching the menu of her phone for the information she wanted to share with Miria.

"Based on what I could find, his last whereabouts were confirmed two months ago."

The phone passed to the assassin, Miria glancing down at a grainy picture, the time stamp confirming it had been obtained from a security camera. Galk was shown in profile, one hand within the pocket of his formal suit while the other passed the car keys to the waiting valet. It was disconcerting for the assassin to see him in formal wear as the few times she had met him, the white laboratory coat he wore was the very thing that had allowed her to remember him.

Flicking to the next photo Miria could see that Galk had moved to the passenger door and appeared to be offering his hand to an unknown companion who had yet to exit the car. The third photo showed it was a woman, her back unfortunately to the camera as they seemingly conversed, Galk reaching to take her hand in his. But it was the next photo that gave reason for concern. As Galk placed a kiss upon the hand he held, the final photo revealed her identity as she linked arms with him before entering the hotel. Everything was now startlingly clear to the assassin.

For despite the less than stellar quality of the image, Miria recognised her instantly. There was thankfully only one person in existence who went out of their way to annoy her and yet could still offer that rush of excitement the usually cautious assassin found difficult to ignore. Plus, the woman had the frustrating habit of being linked with nearly everyone she knew. The Phantom sunk onto the bed as the unexpected reappearance of Agent God Eye proved too much for her. As she fought against the speculations that were beginning to form within her mind, Miria's companion spoke, her words making it a losing battle for the assassin.

"The two of them never left that hotel. The woman doesn't even exist."

"What have you found?" the assassin asked wearily.

"She was shadowing him."

Miria inwardly winced at the term her companion used. In their profession shadowing was just a nice and quick way to label the act of luring someone under the guise of a lover in order to extract vital information. She dryly noted that if the art of seduction was ever redefined as a language then it would be the one that God Eye was most fluent in. Her companion once again drew her from her musings.

"He was targeted to get information on me, Operation Claymore."

And in light of recent revelations, Galk wasn't the only one the Ghosts had been targeting. Miria resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. She needed to remain objective and dwell no more upon speculations of what if any of their shared time together, had been sincere. She needed to be focused on the matter at hand or they would never escape beyond the reach of those who hunted them.

"I need to confirm Galk's death and you need to disappear. We can't afford for you to get caught, especially with the change in our situation."

Giving a slight tilt of the head in agreement, Miria's companion seemed to hesitate, the Phantom guessing the cause and quickly reassuring her.

"I'll contact you as soon as I can. Don't do anything that will jeopardise your safety, Clare."

"Will you be able to handle two organisations by yourself?"

For the first time, the beginnings of a wry smile formed upon Miria's lips.

"I'll manage. But be careful, I'm no longer able to forewarn you about Staff's movements."

A flicker of surprise appeared in Clare's attentive gaze.

"You've deserted? What about Hilda?"

"She's safe for the moment."

A loud crash from outside the room signalled the end of their meeting both of them reaching for their weapons and with only a shared glance between them, they confirmed their course of action. Miria stood up from the bed narrowly avoiding the closest overhanging decoration, the miniature planet forming the start of the room's hidden obstacle course.

Reaching the door she readied her knife, her hand upon the doorknob and with a quick twist swung it open before springing into the empty corridor. There was no sign of the disturbance. She was about to send Clare the all clear when the sound of screaming and running feet reached her. Miria watched as two figures flung themselves out of the room three doors from her position.

Miria frowned as she took in the new arrivals whose attention remained fixed upon the door, the one closest to her position reaching out to touch the number displayed. Her companion looked familiar, Miria thought as the two agents sensed her presence. Recognition crossed Miria's face as the identity of the wavy blonde haired diva clicked into place.

"Phantom Miria!"

Flora's partner shouted, her arm outstretched, her finger pointing in the direction of the assassin. And as the diva reached for her gun, Phantom Miria slammed the door behind her and took off down the corridor. The speed with which she vanished caused the Ghosts to exchange a single look before the beginnings of an excited grin formed upon Apple's face. Helen answered the challenge as she raced after the Phantom, Flora following with a sigh.

* * *

><p>Taking a left turn, Miria dashed up the stairs to a door indicating her destination. She kicked it open and sprinted out onto the roof of the building. Making her way towards the fire escape ladder at the edge of the roof, Miria began her rapid descent as the banging of the door signalled her pursuers weren't far behind. And they were armed. Miria checked her progress. She would never make it to the ground level and she didn't fancy finding out just how good God Eye's friends happened to be when it came to shooting. The Phantom, out of options, and with a window a few rungs down offering the one source of hope, Miria drew level with it only to find it locked.<p>

Gripping the ladder, she pulled out her knife and flicking the handle towards the glass she bashed it against the window, the steel tip of the hilt breaking the glass. She quickly removed the glass with her blade, glancing upwards to check the progress of the rapidly approaching Ghosts. Glass cleared, Miria swung herself feet first into the darkened room, her knife at the ready the instant she saw movement. Miria was quickly by the bed, the lights from an overhanging disco ball glinting off her blade now held against her opponent's throat, the warning dying upon her lips at the sight that greeted her. Resting against the bed head his face bathed in blue as the disco ball continued to turn and looking like he was about to shout out at any minute, was Clare's informant.

His hands clutched the sheet to his chest, the force of his grip having yanked them away from his slumbering companion. And, as if sensing the cold on his bare back, the slumbering man turned over, his arms reaching blindly out to wrap around his partner.

"Raki," the man mumbled snuggling closer. His frightened partner ignored his display of affection, his eyes widening as Miria placed a finger to her lips.

The Phantom backed away before making for the door to throw it open. Miria doubled back into the room and with a warning look at Raki disappeared into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her as the Ghosts made their entrance through the broken window. Flora and Helen ignored the couple as they quickly navigated the room and making for the open door, they sprinted into the corridor.

A second later, Miria came out of the bathroom and heading for the window, she paused before she hauled herself onto the sill. Raki managed to catch the object she tossed at him, an open packet of Marlboro cigarettes, the same one he had sold her that morning. The strangeness of the situation had begun to sink in as the two women returned from the corridor. Raki watched in a trance as the leading woman hoisted herself up and was just about to exit via the window when Raki's partner began to stir. The two women froze, unsure of their next course of action.

The man's eyes blinked open before he propped himself upon his elbows to greet Raki with a kiss. Oblivious to the lack of response he stretched with a loud yawn and kicked the sheet from the bed. The action met with an approving gaze from one of the women, her partner choosing that moment to boot her from the window sill. With an apologetic bow in the couple's direction, she made a swift exit. Blinking, he looked around the empty room and chalking up the feeling of confusion to the lingering effects of sleep, his eyes settled on his unusually still partner.

"You alright?"

"Hit me Sid," his partner sounded dazed. "I think I'm still dreaming."

Sid was about to question him further but his eyes had just caught sight of the open cigarette packet in Raki's hands. Damn it, it was only just after midnight and already Raki's irresistible helplessness was in full force.

"I've told you before, don't smoke that stuff if you can't handle it," he murmured affectionately.

Sid happily helped himself to a post celebration smoke. Well, that was the plan once he found out just where Raki had stashed the lighter.

* * *

><p>Never before had she seen a losing streak broken so quickly. That last hand had cost her. Hysteria reached for the zipper on her skirt with a sigh. Her opponent's eyes followed the skirt's journey down her smooth legs watching as she stepping away to kick it into the growing pile of clothing near her chair. Well, she was now down to her matching set of black and only two hands away from her birthday suit. Talk about stacked odds. Her gaze drifted towards her attentive opponent who was annoyingly still fully dressed.<p>

She hadn't felt this nervous in a long while. She reached for the pack of Lucky Strikes upon the table that they had abandoned for a more intimate game upon the floor. The beginnings of desperation were starting to be felt and perhaps having a cigarette between her fingers would dramatically improve her luck. For damn it all _she_ was not bowing out without at least getting a glimpse of what lay beyond the tantalising preview. Yes, Hysteria decided, that shirt while emphasising her in all the right places would have to go via this game or by any other means. It was a goal she had been aching to finish the moment she'd seen her new security's credentials. Tall, blonde and undeniably in the wrong profession those looks were far more suited for seduction than the protection she'd been hired for.

Hysteria was finding her temptress to be surprisingly well informed, all of which added to her allure. Upon their introduction she had been greeted with a gift, her favourite brand of cigarettes and an added wink at that. As the bearer of gifts moved to light the cigarette that dangled from her lips, Hysteria placed a hand upon her wrist under the pretence of holding the lighter steady as she angled the cigarette into the flame.

Withdrawing with a sigh of satisfaction, her hand leaving the wrist to trail over fingers and gently extract the lighter, Hysteria settled back against the foot of the armchair toying with her prize. Her fingers ran over the faintly inscribed message.

"To Galatea with all my love from Lulu." She read the inscription aloud looking down at the engagement ring that rested upon her temptress' finger.

It was a discreet ring, Hysteria only having just noticed it when extracting the lighter. Whoever had bought it had opted for subtlety. Instead of a large solitaire diamond, the ring had its diamond channel nestled securely within the white gold band.

"Is that from Lulu with all her love as well?"

"Oh, no." That smirk had no place belonging to a security guard whose eyes became more amused as her fingers played with the ring. "This one's not from Lulu."

"Does your fiancée know you're in the habit of accepting gifts from other women?"

Each draw from the cigarette built her confidence and Hysteria was far more at ease as the game restarted. Although, she was well aware that it was only a question of which item of clothing Galatea would choose out of the two available.

"She does get jealous from time to time."

"Enough to call you, to find out your whereabouts?" Hysteria asked innocently, the smoke ring she had blown beginning to dissipate.

"It's normally the other way around." Her fingers ceased their playing, the diamond channel was hidden with a turn of the ring. "I seem to be chasing her more these days."

"Case of cold feet?"

"Just a reunion with an old friend."

Tall, blonde and on the verge of being single, things just kept getting better. She rested the half finished cigarette upon the rim of the ashtray and lit another.

"This friend wouldn't happen to be the long lost love of her life would they?"

"Several bondage rooms later, I'm inclined to think so."

The touch of long slender fingers against her own was teasingly brief as Galatea accepted her offer. Hysteria watched the cigarette marked with her lipstick from the draw she hadn't been able to resist taking, settle between Galatea's lips. A wasted cigarette really, for there were far more suitable things they could be doing. Hysteria's gaze was already upon her next prize.

"Let me guess…it must have stung quite a bit when you walked in on them."

"That would have been the better alternative."

Far too distracted, Hysteria missed the touch of wistfulness as she was close enough to see if temptation truly matched her heightened expectations. The cigarette was no longer a hindrance, its ash in the process of being flicked off.

"Don't tell me she used a mutual friend to break the news."

"No, just the bank. I'll be missing quite a few zeros at the end of the month."

"So she led you on all the way to the altar?"

"No, that was never the intention."

Damn, she'd never even met the heartbreaker but just from the brief overview she'd been given she was already forming a less than a complimentary picture of her, those last words eliciting a tug of sympathy. And comfort was an excuse that Hysteria was only too willing to use, the alcohol within her system stroking the attraction beyond the mild interest she had first entertained. And strangers especially those who weren't so bad on the eyes were always hard to resist. Hysteria finally closed the gap as she straddled Galatea's lap. The temptress' hands reached out to steady her, the touch urging Hysteria forward to whisper.

"Then if anything were to occur between us she wouldn't have the right to complain and if it was enough to bring her back then that's just an added incentive isn't it?"

"You're quite generous with those aren't you?"

Well, she finally had the answer to her question. Hysteria bit upon the corner of her lip, the lingering gaze telling her that her temptress had made up her mind. For that appreciative gaze Galatea was giving her as her eyes took in every inch of her body signalled that her currently overworked imagination was about to fall spectacularly short of reality. And those hands had better places to be as Hysteria, entwining them within her own, trailed them down her skin, her guidance only as far as the edges of the black lace. Galatea more than capable of continuing as her fingers played with the design.

"I hate to leave you hanging," she whispered close enough to brush against her ear adding an extra touch to the already seductive tone. "But I'll have to go with the bust."

True, Galatea had never stated which of the two remaining pieces of clothing she wanted her to remove. Hysteria began remedying the situation, only to be denied a second time, the teasing touch substituted for the cool edge of a playing card, Galatea tucking her second card next to the first making sure that they where secure within the edges of Hysteria's bra. An eight and a nine, all diamonds. Hysteria looked down at the five communal cards, two and three of diamonds along with the king of clubs making the flop, a king for the turn and a queen for the river, all hearts. Pity the turn and the river hadn't yielded a diamond. Hysteria removed the two cards that made up Galatea's busted hand. Her own hand already revealed, dropped during her relocation to Galatea's lap, the two cards making a drawn flush, her losing streak broken.

"Shirt," Hysteria decided after a pause spent deliberating over the many tempting options. "I've been wanting to get that off you ever since we started."

"I think you've being wanting to do a bit more than that."

As one button was followed by the next, Hysteria admiring the nimble movement of Galatea's fingers, her own moved forward to halt their progress in order to tap upon the white gold band.

"I've changed my mind," Hysteria whispered. "I'd rather you take off _this_."

A sigh of disappointment escaped Galatea's lips. The request nevertheless heeded, her thumb and forefinger closed around the ring to begin slowly sliding it off her finger. Galatea hesitated just before the band slipped free. Hysteria offered her hand and the ring slid onto her finger to be admired by its new owner before it was hidden from sight as arms wrapped around Galatea's neck, lips inches from her ear as they whispered.

"I could erase every memory she ever left."

"There are some I wouldn't mind keeping."

"The one right here?" Hysteria asked mockingly as she withdrew to further the ridicule by placing a hand upon her heart.

"No, just a little bit to either side."

With Galatea more than distracted, Hysteria trailed her fingers down her jaw and finding her chin, tilted her lingering gaze upwards. Galatea's eyes levelled with hers before Hysteria claimed her lips in a one way kiss. Gripping the collar of the shirt, Hysteria shoved Galatea backwards and slamming her into the back of the couch she noticeably felt the absence of her hands, for annoyingly Galatea had removed them to steady herself, her hands remaining against the couch throughout the duration of their next kiss. Drawing away, Hysteria kissed her way along Galatea's neck and shoulder.

"Do you always kiss people goodnight like this?"

"Are you always this receptive?"

Her voice was muffled in between the kisses she was leaving aware that they were failing to interest Galatea beyond the mild amusement in her tone. Hysteria passed up the next kiss to forcefully mark the skin, withdrawing pleased upon seeing the noticeable redness. Shifting within Galatea's lap, as she reached her hands around her own back searching for the clasp to her bra, Hysteria warned her in a low whisper.

"You should know something about me. If there's one thing I hate, it's being ignored."

The straps were expertly slipped from her shoulders, the bra now within her hands and with a twirl she dropped it into Galatea's lap. Oh, she had been right about the size, Galatea confirmed as she glanced up from the bra to watch Hysteria sashay toward the end of the room where she opened a sliding door separating the living room from the white walls of the adjacent room. A number of plants were scattered around for aesthetic value framing the large spa that dominated the indoor patio, a skylight shining above the still water. Playing with her newly acquired ring, Hysteria beckoned Galatea to join her as her hands made their way teasingly towards the edges of her remaining clothing.

Removing the final item, Hysteria gave Galatea a lingering look before she entered the spa. Her expression pleased when Galatea followed content to observe for now from her position by the door as Hysteria settled against the far corner of the spa.

"Aren't you a little overdressed?"

"I was hoping you could help me with that," Galatea murmured, her hands playing with edges of her shirt. "But if you insist."

Perhaps it was the sudden heat from the spa or the alcohol had just finally kicked in, but Hysteria, growing weaker with each button that was undone, felt her lips go dry all of a sudden as Galatea, unable to resist, kept their eyes locked while her fingers closed around the edges of her shirt in preparation to removing it. The last ounce of Hysteria's strength vanishing, her arms slipped from the ledge that been supporting her and she disappeared under the water. She quickly resurfaced only to find that in her absence, Galatea had instead removed only her shoes, her earlier intentions seemingly forgotten as she lit a new cigarette before she settled at the edge of the spa a few feet away.

"I can't decide if you're serious or just prone to teasing."

The complaint was playful despite the disappointment. Her composure recovered, Hysteria smirked as a lingering touch upon the ring drew Galatea's attention.

"But I do know that she must have made quite the impression if you're still so attached to this."

A shrug greeted Hysteria's observation while the heat from the spa had started to make her feel uncomfortable. Her movements had become sluggish as she edged towards the side, grateful that Galatea seemed to instantly sense what she wanted. The cigarette passed to her without a word, Hysteria taking a long draw as she again admired the diamond channel.

"What was it like?"

The words were slurred. Galatea reached for the cigarette and as Hysteria was far too sleepy to register the ring sliding from her finger, the agent pondered the question.

She had known as soon as Miria produced the small box, the Phantom's request for her to stay in the car now making far more sense. The edges of Galatea's lips had formed into a smirk upon seeing Miria place it upon the dashboard before withdrawing her hands quickly to rub them nervously upon her jeans as she glanced out of the window. The lift doors that would lead them out of the basement car park were emblazed with the logo of Hotel Pieta.

"_We are meant to be…so…just be careful."_

Miria would have been out of the door in a second but Galatea well versed in her speed stopped her with a simple touch upon her arm. The open box revealed the engagement ring as Galatea held out her hand.

_"Well, aren't you going to put it on?" _

Unsteady fingers had complied with the request. Galatea's own fingers were unable to recapture Miria's trembling movements as she replaced the ring upon her finger. A gentle splash to the side of the spa signalled that Hysteria had passed out. The agent lifted the unconscious woman from the water and carried her towards the couch. Slipping off her wet shirt, Galatea tossed it over Hysteria before seating herself upon the armchair opposite to finish the cigarette.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Upon entering her security code her wallpaper flashed briefly across the screen before showing her the notification from Dietrich. The name that greeted her, left her lips with a sigh as she saw the following purchase charged to her credit card.

"Damn it, Miria," Galatea swore. "Couldn't you have just walked?"

* * *

><p>Thanking the driver of the taxi, Miria closed the door behind her before slipping the card back in her pocket. She made her way along the empty street of the non-descript area heading in the direction of the motel. She had managed to elude the Ghosts losing them the second she had cleared the fire escape and blended into the nightlife.<p>

So, it hadn't been God Eye this time around or Teresa. Miria frowned at the name. Her split from the Ghosts had been in a way educational for now she knew they hunted in twos and it was quite the surprise to discover that the diva who sang mournful love songs to a crowded bar was actually a part of the Seven Ghosts. With the absence of both Teresa and God Eye, did that make them partners? It did sort of explain just why Teresa had turned up unannounced at Hotel Pieta and God Eye's expression upon seeing her had told Miria that the agent was surprised to see her. She had definitely been made to feel somewhat sheepish. Miria instantly dismissed the thought, the assassin making a right down a side street, the motel a few blocks from her position.

But then sheepishness just didn't fit Galatea's profile even though Miria had recently discovered that the two of them lived together. A look around the agent's flat in search of her wallet had revealed several letters in Teresa's name. Roommates then with a habit of calling each other nicknames. But then Flora had called her Gala. Miria was unable to stop recalling the sight of Galatea kissing Flora and with the way the diva had kissed back it was clear that she didn't mind in the slightest. The intriguing relationship between Galatea and her prospective partners was put on hold as Miria searched for her key before ascending the stairs to the top floor of the motel.

Quietly entering her room, Miria closed the door gently behind her. Hilda was fast asleep, her wrists bound in a pair of handcuffs the chain looped around the bed head. Reaching forward, Miria dropped her hand just before it brushed against Hilda's sleeping face. The Phantom walked past her empty bed to settle upon the floor, her back against the bathroom door. The best way out for everybody involved was to just vanish and give Hilda a life away from all this and pray that Clare would remain beyond the reach of both Staff and the Ghosts.

Her head made a quiet thump against the door, Miria closing her eyes as the complexity of her situation overwhelmed her. The Phantom's eyes remained closed as she listened for sounds that disturbed the night. Despite her attentiveness the events of the night and the implications of what she had learned gave way to sleep.

Miria's eyes opened with a start as she heard the slight rattling of the doorknob above her head. The Phantom was on her feet in an instant, her closest blade within her hand. As the door swung open, Miria ducked to the side to allow the intruder in before pouncing and tackling them to the floor. The long blonde hair and just the sheer nerve of pick locking the door to her room gave her an inkling as to the identity of her late night visitor. The appreciative voice along with the lack of a struggle confirmed it as Miria found herself pinning God Eye to the floor.

"Were you always this rough?" God Eye inquired unfazed by the knife at her neck.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Miria hissed quickly checking that the agent had come alone.

"Catching up on long lost time," Galatea sweetly informed her as her gaze dropped several inches lower to take in Miria's shirt. "Oh this shirt looks familiar."

Four weeks away from her had dulled the senses, Miria having forgotten just how quick God Eye was. The Phantom was unaware that one of the agent's hands was free and now examining the fabric of her shirt.

"But more importantly Miria, don't you think I should be the one asking the questions?"

As God Eye's hand made itself known by slipping between the buttons of her shirt, Miria was reminded of just how much she hated her current choice of clothing. Retracting her knife the Phantom yanked Galatea upwards and shoved her further into the room before kicking the door closed, the agent holding up her hands in surrender. The gesture was ignored as Miria pushed Galatea into the bathroom before locking the door behind them, Hilda's safety her first priority. Galatea took a quick glance at her new surroundings and a brief look at the locked door brought a smirk to her lips.

"Well, if you insist we could always come back to those questions."

She was taking her current situation rather too calmly as she leant against the shower door making herself comfortable within the cramped bathroom. Her trademark smirk widened as Miria grabbed the collar of her shirt and unintentionally backing her further into the shower she growled out the question that had been tormenting her ever since Clare had shown her the photos.

"Why, God Eye, why the hell did you do it?"

Reaching up to pry Miria's hand away from her collar, Galatea readjusted her shirt looking slightly put out before she admitted reluctantly.

"I could understand your reaction if it had been more intimate and compromising," Galatea hesitated, her gaze taking in the knife that was still in the assassin's hand.

"Oh, Miria let's be honest it's not even your best photo."

"So you have been spying on me all along."

It would have annoyed Miria more that God Eye had misinterpreted her question had it not reminded her of the very reason she had vanished from the agent's flat in the first place. Now was the time to pursue her inquires as God Eye shot her a wounded look.

"Calling it spying is too harsh a term. I prefer to call it observation," Galatea's voice trailed off as she realised that Miria had backed her against the wall of the shower in her anger.

"With a little field work…"

Her hands that had moved to further the intimacy was met with a slap, Miria glaring at her for daring to attempt to push away the showerhead that was now the only obstacle between them.

"Oh, I forgot it's your job to seduce people for information."

"I'm under orders to gather vital information via whatever means I deem necessary."

"The invasion of my personal space at every opportunity was you gathering information was it?"

"Only in regards to whether or not you'd be receptive to my methods."

"And then what?" Miria's hand closed over Galatea's that still rested upon the showerhead, the Phantom using their joined hands to push it upwards.

Having removed the final obstacle Miria was now free to breach the gap between them to whisper into Galatea's ear.

"You'd interrogate me afterwards?"

"Depends on your definition of afterwards," Galatea told her truthfully. "But if you're talking about me finally closing our little bet then my answer would be no."

With a slight turn of her head, Galatea put them inches apart distracting Miria instantly, God Eye disarming her before going for the kiss only for her lips to stop teasingly short as she confessed.

"I would be far too distracted by you to even think about my mission."

"I'd find that hard to believe."

"Worth a shot."

Galatea shrugged as she watched Miria back out of the shower, the assassin resting against the door, her weary eyes regarding the agent.

"Why did you do it, Galatea?"

"You were a challenge and I was attracted to that."

Despite the now slight smile upon her face that formed due to Galatea's admission, Miria remained at the door. Her eyes closing briefly, the smile nowhere to be seen when they next opened, Miria regarding Galatea with an unreadable expression.

"I know that you killed Galk," she murmured. "Do you remember him?"

Leaving Miria's knife upon the soap dish in the shower, Galatea joined the assassin, the both of them standing with their backs resting against the wooden door, God Eye taking the time to collect her thoughts before she answered the question.

"I don't just seduce people…sometimes I get other missions that I have to follow in order to survive in this profession."

"I know." Out of all the ways for Miria to react, the gentle touch of her hand upon hers had never crossed Galatea's mind. "That's why I can't hate you."

The Phantom's voice had grown soft, the anger that had tainted it having faded, Miria looking exhausted. Galatea leant forward only to be stopped as Miria rested her finger against the agent's lips cutting off further words.

"Don't." Miria warned her. "I know what you're going to say."

Unable to resist defying the warning, Galatea spoke, her question bringing a hint of a smile to Miria's face.

"Was it my charm that made it hard to hate me or the fact you just can't resist me?"

"You mean you're overly confident nature or the fact you have no concept of personal space?" Miria offered an alternative, amused by the intrigue in God Eye's voice.

"It wasn't my display of masterful skill?"

"You mean your habit of flirting with anything that moves?"

"Miria," Galatea reproached her, the assassin's finger moving from her lips to lightly caress her cheek. "Being as good as I am doesn't come without practice."

"And just who have you been practising with?"

The question lacked its usual displeased tone. Miria shifted closer, the agent keeping just out of range.

"Only with the one at the moment, but don't worry I'll catch up to your seventeen."

Jealously was an effective way to kill a mood, but then she had been wondering when God Eye was going to bring up the subject of her multiple love hotel excursions.

"Nothing happened between me and Hilda."

"Hilda? Which number girlfriend is that?"

Stubbornness was a trait Miria had never found attractive but Galatea's current strong streak was seriously appealing to her.

"I told you, she's my childhood friend. The one you helped me rescue."

"Oh, the one you wanted to start a new life with. Well congratulations, Miria. Although, I'd appreciate it if you stopped celebrating with my card."

"There were no celebrations," Miria told her determined to convince Galatea.

The agent stiffened as she found herself in a very familiar position, Miria having manoeuvred her against the door. God Eye's hands firmly by her side, Galatea hesitated for the first time for the last thing she wanted was to break the look Miria was giving her. Galatea gulped in anticipation as Miria pressed against her placing a light kiss to her ear.

"Hilda and I could never happen," Miria confessed, her lips brushing over Galatea's ear as she spoke. "Because I'm too damn busy thinking of you."

"And just what was I doing in your thoughts?"

She could feel the slight curve of Miria's lips, the assassin's hand trailing just above her belt her fingers tightening around the edges of the agent's shirt to pull the closest button open. Galatea inhaled sharply as cool fingers ran across her skin, Miria caressing it as she trailed her hands around to draw slow circles on her lower back.

"We were…" Miria's voice dropped to a low whisper her hands dipping even lower as she kissed the corner of Galatea's lip. "Searching for knives."

Her hand closed around the weapon that was hidden at the back of God Eye's belt. Miria removed the sheath and tossed it to the floor. Galatea's arms pulled her closer to finally kiss her, the kiss unbroken as the two followed the sheath, the agent guiding them to the floor, Miria straddling Galatea against the bathroom door.

"How many knives do you have?" Galatea inquired between the kisses her hand having found the one that was clipped to the assassin's belt.

Forgoing the effort to remove it, Galatea chose instead to slide the buckle free, the belt clattering to the bathroom tiles. Miria bit down upon her lip as hands made their way towards the zipper sliding it down only to be intercepted before they could go further, the assassin guiding Galatea towards the knife just under her shirt.

"You're just going to have to find out," Miria challenged returning to her own exploration. The final button now free, the Phantom made quick work of the clasp on Galatea's bra.

All action on Miria's part ceased at the sight before her and suddenly it was hard to draw breath, Galatea finding the break in their activities highly unsatisfactory the mark she left upon the assassin's neck indicative of her impatience. Miria's hands tangled through blonde hair as Galatea continued to kiss along her neck the hindrance caused by the shirt expertly removed. The kisses moved from the neck and as Miria felt the strap slide from her shoulder, Galatea's busy hands stopped as the Phantom slammed them against the door before reclaiming God Eye's lips. Even restrained, God Eye proved a dominate force, Miria pulling away to catch her breath.

"I do," she murmured as she rested against Galatea's forehead. "I do think about it."

"Think about what?" Galatea asked just as breathless.

"If you had won our little bet."

"I think we're about to find out."

Stopping Galatea's advance with a hand upon her shoulder, Miria shifted within her lap. Drawing them against each other she let go of the agent's hands in the process. Galatea steadied her with a single arm wrapped around her waist, the other playing with the remaining strap upon the bra. Miria playfully brushed her hand away.

"Oh no, you only had a week."

Looking down at their now entwined hands, Galatea placed a kiss upon her shoulder keeping her lips against the skin Miria letting out a small yelp as with a small tug the strap slid free.

"You ran away five days into the bet," Galatea sounded miffed at the remembrance, her gaze taking in the reward for her hard work. "Although I don't think I'm going to need those extra two days."

Biting the corner of her lip was a sure sign that Galatea was greatly anticipating exploring the newly uncovered territory. Miria, quickly distracting her with a kiss was unable to stop from further teasing her.

"I think you're going to need several more."

An expression half away between a genuine smile and a smirk made its way to Galatea's face, her next whisper dangerously close to Miria's ear.

"I just need tonight."

"Confident aren't you?" Miria hummed. "Considering you've only got five minutes left."

"That's four too long."

Really, she should have known this wasn't a solo mission. The crashing of what could only be the door to the room heard through the bathroom walls brought an end to the moment. God Eye's backup had arrived. The agent gave her an apologetic look, Miria unmoving in her arms. They probably had only a handful of seconds, the Phantom choosing to use them to kiss Galatea softly upon the lips.

"Shame, could have really been something."

"Miria…"

The call of her name sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. Miria was unable to hear the words, her eyes upon Galatea's moving lips, the assassin shook her head to clear her hearing as the bathroom blurred in front of her. Miria's eyes snapped open as her head thumped against the door, the assassin wincing as the room slowly came back into focus. The white tiles gave way to carpet, the shower now an empty bed.

Wait. There were two beds, Miria hazily thought as her eyes, tracking a trail of broken wood splinters came to rest upon the bed head almost completely destroyed, a single remaining slat straining to hold the pair of handcuffs in place. The person restrained having dragged the bed across the room, the fog in Miria's mind cleared as she registered that the foot of the bed was now inches from her. Realisation dawned upon her as all traces of sleep were abandoned by the Phantom. Long blonde hair was replaced by short brown messy locks, the moving lips unable to form words, instead issuing a guttural growl. Those guilty silver eyes were even now turning to gold. Miria had found herself drawn out of her dream to face down a now awakened Hilda.


	12. Chapter 12

Bar Mucha

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><p>AN: Guest: Thank you for your review. I agree Teresa and Galatea are currently locked in a three way tie with Helen for the honour of contributing the most to Irene's string of recent headaches. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to leave a review.

Ah, hello, yes, I'm a week late in updating, actually this update is three months overdue.

It turns out that even with a plot outline I've absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this story hence the erratic updating schedule.

I wish I could update more frequently but alas I'm paying for my long absence as I'm finding it difficult to regularly write.

With that extremely poor excuse, I've none to offer for the filler feel of this chapter.

If you do venture on, thank you and for those who continue or have braved this story before I thank you again.

Disclaimer: I don't own Claymore, thank the high heavens.

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><p>There was something in the ritual of starting one's day with a glass of wine that was simply irreplaceable. Roxanne swirled the deep red liquid around the glass before she took a small sip and sighed in contentment. This right here was all the reward she needed for a most successfully completed job, although the extra zeros in her bank account were most welcome. She continued along that line of thought as she eyed the plate in front of her, another welcome addition in her life, for even under interrogation her weakness for the sweeter foods would remain a best kept secret.<p>

Today's breakfast, a stack of pancakes covered in a generous amount of butter sprinkled with several strawberries and topped off with an extra dollop of ice cream, had been prepared to more than indulge her love of all things sweet. One of the many perks of being an honoured guest of Ermita, she supposed as she took another sip of her wine. Savouring the taste she placed the glass back upon the table before she expertly swiped the provided serviette from beneath the cutlery which, despite her action remained undisturbed in their carefully placed setting.

Adjusting the serviette, Roxanne now properly attired began to spread the ice cream across the first pancake and watched as the melting treat intermixed with the butter. She lifted her now stained blade to block the incoming fork that whistled towards her. In the clash of cutlery, the knife proved the winner. The fork was repelled towards the mantel piece. As it embedded itself in the finely polished wood she gave a pointed stare down the length of the table at the one person who had dared to interrupt the tranquillity of her early morning meal.

"Forgive me, my hand just happened to slip," Ophelia apologised as she returned the stare with a completely innocent look.

She further emphasised the words with a jingle of the handcuffs that currently secured her to the armrest of the dining chair.

"Were the pancakes not to your liking?" Roxanne asked as her knife began to cut her breakfast into neat little pieces.

"From the look alone I'm sure I will have no objections. However, my vodka is another matter entirely."

Ophelia gestured towards her shot glass to indicate her displeasure for the vodka had been placed too far for her to reach with her limited movability. Spearing the closest piece of pancake upon her plate, Roxanne savoured the exquisite taste which would make the short walk to tend to her guest somewhat regrettable. Dabbing the cream from the corner of her mouth she folded her napkin before she pulled herself away from her delicious breakfast.

"Forgive me, I should have foreseen your trouble," Roxanne admitted.

The Chameleon made her way to the large cabinet that took up the majority of the far wall of the room where she paused to deliberate over the selection of drinking straws that greeted her. Plucking one of the blue striped straws she returned to her breakfast companion. Placing the straw within the shot glass she positioned it to face Ophelia and with a smile returned to her delectable pancakes at the far end of the table. She paused however, to retrieve the maple syrup that along with the whipped cream had been placed rather inconveniently next to the candelabrum that took up the centre of the long dining table.

Smothering her pancake with a large dose of syrup Roxanne watched as the maple mixed with the cream and with a flick of her serviette, she made a proper start on breakfast. The first pancake consumed was followed shortly by the next. A small break was taken in between finishing the third and fourth for Roxanne had paused to open the morning edition of the newspaper that had been thoughtfully placed by her glass. Sipping her red wine she read the headlines. The largest of them declared that the authorities now faced yet another setback concerning their investigation into some crash that had occurred on a coastal road a few weeks ago.

Before she could flick to a selection that was more to her liking a movement caught her eye. Roxanne glanced over the top of her paper just in time to see Ophelia bite down a little too forcefully upon her straw and accidently yank it free of her shot glass. Surely Staff had taught her proper table manners Roxanne frowned. Her disapproval grew as Ophelia flicked the straw to the corner of her mouth before she spoke.

"Was there something the matter?"

"I was merely wondering why Staff neglects to invite you to their annual functions."

"I might not make it to formal ones but I do get invited to the after party," Ophelia assured her. "Especially in the case of an unwanted guest."

The beginnings of a wild grin forming upon her face sent the straw tumbling from her mouth and into her lap. Really, she had no manners at all, Roxanne decided as she turned the pages of her newspaper in the hunt for the business section.

With her companion's attention now buried in the printed page, Ophelia discreetly inched her fingers towards the fallen straw carefully avoiding any unwanted clinking from the cuffs. Straw in hand, she eyed the knife upon the table that was for the moment typically out of reach. Balancing the straw upon her knee her hands reached forward til her fingers touched the edges of the table. The familiar clink of the cuffs announced that she had reached the length of the chain that bound her. The noise alerted Roxanne whose inquiring look was met with an accommodating smile.

"Would it be too much trouble for you to pass the syrup?"

The requested item slid its way down the table and was stopped by Ophelia's fingers. Roxanne satisfied, returned to her paper as Ophelia pulled the bottle towards her. The syrup was used to slide the knife from the table and into her lap. Leaving the syrup in front of her to mask her movements, she picked up the straw and knife. Splitting the straw down the middle to the half way mark, she worked the now split ends over the ratchet teeth of the handcuff only pausing to pinch the corners before she forced it underneath the locking pawl. With the lock now two notches back, Ophelia slid the ratchet out to free herself from the handcuff. She quickly moved to free her remaining arm and in her haste dislodged the knife from its position upon her lap. The uncomfortably loud sound as it hit the polished floor, drew the Chameleon's attention.

"I'm afraid my hands aren't as good as they used to be, perhaps I'll skip the syrup for today," Ophelia calmly explained.

Roxanne seemed to buy the explanation as she offered.

"Perhaps you'd like the whipped cream, instead?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have a fondness for sweet things."

"What a shame." Roxanne looked genuinely disappointed as her hand slipped into her pocket. "However, I must insist."

Instinct alone allowed Ophelia to anticipate the upcoming action as the hidden handcuff left Roxanne's pocket to be launched towards her. The whipped cream in its path was blasted down the table as Ophelia, shoving her chair backwards, kicked the fallen knife into the air. Snatching the weapon as it began its downward descent, she caught the can of whipped cream before it collided with her face. Her blade moved to parry the following cuff and smash it back to where it came from. With a flick of the chain, the returning cuff veered off course into the overhanging chandelier.

Using her chair as a springboard, Ophelia leaped onto the table and dashed down its length towards her opponent. Now within range, she feigned aiming the can only for Roxanne to block the onslaught of cream with her newspaper. Undeterred, she slashed through the defence her blade meeting with the chain Roxanne had raised to protect herself. Forced backwards, Ophelia recovered just in time to grab the chandelier and swing herself out of the way of the launched remnants of Roxanne's breakfast. Upon landing, Ophelia threw herself into a backwards roll to avoid the plate that followed. Before returning the favour the can of whipped cream was knocked aside as another handcuff was added to their fight.

The Chameleon was now on even ground as she sprang onto the table, her two cuffs relentlessly targeting her opponent. The knife was knocked from Ophelia's grasp as she attempted to parry the flurry of attacks. Ducking underneath the chain, she grabbed the closest thing from the table and brought it to block the incoming cuff. The fight was drawn to a temporary halt as both opponents watched in fascination as the force behind the projectile caused the glass to crack. Syrup poured from the now broken bottle despite Ophelia's half-hearted attempt to rejoin the broken ends. Giving up with a shrug she tossed it at Roxanne.

The fight was renewed as the Chameleon dodged, the glass shattering at her feet. Ophelia was already on the move as she forward rolled to snatch the nearby candelabrum to deflect the cuff which then slipped around one of the candle holders. Grabbing the chain, she pulled Roxanne forward for a well placed head butt and seizing a fist full of her blouse she flipped the Chameleon over her shoulder. Roxanne landed with a crash on the table. Her head narrowly missed the glass of vodka as during the fight the two had worked their way down the table. Ophelia straddled her now downed opponent as her hand reached to tangle through red locks.

"It's been a while since I've met someone who could keep up with me," she said as she took a moment to catch her breath.

"Likewise, you've made me work up quite a sweat."

As she returned the compliment, Roxanne's hand closed around the chain she was just about to flick into Ophelia's face. She was painfully pulled up by the now firm hold upon her hair. Her fingers were then wrenched away from the chain, Ophelia having secured her wrist in an iron-like grip.

"No, no, we'll have none of that," she chided.

Her gaze however, grew puzzled as she noticed for the first time the bleeding cut upon Roxanne's forearm. Examining the cut, she noted the small shard of glass still embedded in the wound.

"I don't recall hitting you," Ophelia murmured as her fingers closed around the glass before she ripped it out without the slightest hesitation.

"It was a very lucky throw."

Roxanne's voice hardly quavered. The slight tensing that Ophelia felt from the arm she held was the only indication of Roxanne's discomfort. Giving the now bleeding wound a closer inspection, Ophelia locked eyes with her opponent before she licked the length of the wound. An amused gaze was all Roxanne offered her as Ophelia, ignoring her, dipped her fingers into the shot glass. Roxanne's amusement turned to brief discomfort as fingers ran down the length of the wound, the vodka upon them leaving quite a sting.

"You should tend to these as quickly as possible," Ophelia instructed before she slowly licked the wound clean and released Roxanne from her grip.

The taste of blood still in her mouth, Ophelia downed the remaining vodka as Roxanne making no move to renew the fight merely inquired.

"What, no kiss to make it better?"

The temporary confusion was cleared as a handcuff clicked around Ophelia's wrist and with her opponent now inches from her Roxanne plucked her lips into an imitation of a kiss. She flicked the chain into Ophelia's face and with some help from a particularly vicious kick she sent her tumbling from the edge into the waiting chair. Roxanne moved to snap the dangling cuff around the armrest only for Ophelia to respond by yanking the Chameleon towards her. Roxanne took a moment to catch a much needed breath. Her new position in Ophelia's lap was ideal as it allowed her to use the abandoned handcuff upon the armrest to secure her opponent once again to the chair.

"Do you promise to behave or do I have to restraint you further?" Roxanne inquired as she adjusted the cuffs to make sure they nipped into the skin.

Ophelia's hands stilled as she pondered the question.

"We could do a truce, temporary of course. I'd rather conserve my energy for the second round."

"Second round, wouldn't it be the third?"

"You surely can't be trying to count our first meeting," Ophelia reproached her. "That's hardly fair with the underhanded tactics you pulled."

"No credit for rescuing you?"

"I'm sure you were paid quite a sum."

"True," Roxanne had to concede that point. "You were worth a fair bit."

The snapping of a cuff around the chair leg signalled the end of their chat as the Chameleon slipped from her lap to secure Ophelia's ankles only pausing to retrieve the dropped straw.

"It's just a pity you're only worth half of my payment."

Folding the straw, Roxanne slipped it into Ophelia's front pocket and watched in satisfaction as it was hidden from sight. With a pat to her captive's shoulder she withdrew making her way back to the table and her spilt glass of wine. A thoughtful Ophelia watched her retreat. She counted silently to ten before she tilted her head towards her pocket to begin hunting for that straw.

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><p>Whatever had possessed him to allow two bloodthirsty people to use the same room, his own dining room at that, Ermita pondered as the thumping that had started some time ago continued unabated above his head.<p>

"Are we taking bets on the victor?" his guest asked.

Ermita turned his gaze from the ceiling of his office to the leather chair in front of him. Wrapped within his dark cloak his visitor seemed to vanish within the surrounding black, a single eye staring unblinking from the darkness.

"I don't take any pleasure in predicting an empty victory," Ermita replied.

"Their breakfast arguments are I take it, common?"

"Ever since they arrived four weeks ago, and bets are of little compensation considering the current state of my dining room. Besides I'm not one to bet on something I can't win."

The answer intrigued his fellow companion who leant forward. Ermita was glad of his attire that revealed only his eyes and therefore hid the disgust he was unable to suppress as the light from the desk lamp exposed the appearance of the man in front of him. An ugly scar dominated one side of his face having claimed his eye, the scarring stretching back to the large chunk missing from his ear. The skin of his neck raw, the extent of the damage was hidden by his high collar shirt.

"It would be hard to justify your gamble concerning your niece as anything but a loss and a large one at that."

"Yes, it was most…unfortunate to lose Hilda under such circumstances, but she served her purpose."

The face in front of him managed a smile, the attempt more akin to that of a grinning skull that had yet to rot under the ground.

"Such callous words for the children you spend your life providing for. Playing the part of the grieving uncle doesn't suit you, Ermita."

"I don't recall having traitors as children."

His companion nodded in agreement.

"Yes, it was an unfortunate development. The Phantom had so much potential."

The face was now within the light his gaunt hand reaching for the tray by the table and the cups upon it. Four cubes of sugar disappeared into the black liquid followed by a splash of milk. How strange Ermita thought, he had been under the impression that the coffee would be drunk black as everything about the man in front of him screamed of a life that had been spent performing the shadier deeds that Staff preferred to keep hidden.

"The tracker system you introduced proved useful," Ermita continued changing the subject. He wasn't a man that particularly liked dwelling on lost potential. "We received confirmation that the Phantom removed the tracker shortly after Rado lost her at the exchange point."

With a scoff, the scarred man settled back within his chair as the milk spread across the surface of the cup. The black completely gone as a teaspoon stirred the liquid.

"Have we got confirmation of the Phantom's demise?"

"Hilda has yet to check in, but I'm confident that when she does regain her senses the threat will have been removed."

"Then with the Phantom's apparent demise, is the need for a new bodyguard the reason you've acquired Ophelia as a replacement?"

"Ophelia." Ermita addressed the issue aware that her presence within his house wasn't one of his better kept secrets.

"She just sits rotting outside Rimuto's study door and what good is that when I have something far more suited for her temperament."

"And what about our new ally?"

Another addition to his house which should have remained a secret, but the woman was as noticeable as her red locks and just as fiery. For it seemed as if nothing could keep Roxanne from interrupting what were meant to be private meetings.

"The Chameleon is surprisingly efficient at her job," Ermita chose to reply.

After all house matters should remain between roommates.

"I plan on keeping her around for a while longer. We do owe her a certain amount of gratitude for the information she provided concerning Vincent Rabona's daughter."

"Information that cost more than the majority of my projects. And even with the knowledge that the Rabona girl was one of the Ghosts, they somehow managed to whisk Orsay away on your watch."

Out of all the ways to be attacked, resentment was a poor choice and one of the last he had been expecting the man in front of him to use. But then with the dramatic cut in budget it was a somewhat rational response. Anyway, external squabbling would lead them nowhere.

"Orsay was a fool who needed to be removed," Ermita spoke calmly.

The spoon that continued to stir the coffee stilled at last upon these words.

"I heard rumours that you'd moved rather quickly to seize his territory. Are you sure treason isn't in your bloodline?"

"If you're accusing me of plotting a rebellion then clearly you understand the threat."

"A threat that was perfectly contained in a certain safe house until your elite squad allowed it to escape."

This taunt made a chink in the wall of Ermita's outer calm as he pointedly reminded his companion.

"I heard no objection from you when I offered you the surviving member. How is Rachel by the way?"

"She's proving an excellent subject." A pause as the coffee was finally tasted, the cup immediately returning to the tray.

"Although she would pale in comparison should I manage to obtain a rare Ghost sample."

To talk was one thing. To talk and bring the subject around to one's particular price for loyalty was Ermita's speciality. He reached for the key around his neck, removed it and opened the top draw of his desk. Several photos were placed in front of the visitor. The first upon the pile showed the image of a dark haired woman stepping out of her Audi that only had three out of its four doors intact.

"Your obsession recently made an appearance."

"She did?" Gaunt hands picked up the photo to carefully examine it. "I thought she'd retired and was leaving things to her protégé."

"That Ghost at Hotel Pieta was uncannily similar."

Ermita tossed another photo across the desk this time taken from a lift showing the late Phantom and the Ghost who had posed as Hysteria Rabona.

"The two together would make excellent test subjects."

It was worth noting that the second photo had drawn the man's attention, the two images of the known Ghosts placed side by side.

"I would like to acquire them."

"Now who talks of treason?"

"So you are planning something, Ermita."

Ermita leant forward, away from the light offered by the bright lamp as he finally got to the business he had wanted to discuss.

"The old Staff is dead. The Ghosts could easily dismantle the entire operation."

Ermita leaned back in his chair and waving his hand dismissively, he continued.

"No, they make waves here and there, nothing but minor setbacks as if they were trying to draw her out while they concentrate upon their search for Operation Claymore."

The mention of Operation Claymore ensured that he now had the rapt attention of his guest. The following question confirmed it.

"What are you proposing?"

"A change of leadership. Rimuto is no longer capable of putting a stop to the Ghosts."

His companion seemed to consider it while another eerie smile formed.

"It's an interesting proposition, but would I be compensated for my silence on this matter?"

"Does the chance of having a Ghost as your latest experiment sound agreeable?"

"It does sound somewhat agreeable."

Loyalty bought, Ermita moved to update his latest comrade as he removed the final contents of the drawer. The manila folder taken and opened, the photos of a crime scene spread across the table. His companion disinterestedly scanned them, a note of disapproval heard clearly in his voice as he tapped upon the closest photo. It showed a trashed hotel room, the most noticeable feature the multiple blood stains found upon the carpet.

"I was under the impression that the Phantom had been eliminated but a lack of her corpse makes one think otherwise. Surely, you're not passing off blood stains as a job well done."

Removing the final two photos that had remained within the folder, Ermita placed them in front of his companion. The first had been taken inside a bathroom, the once white bath stained with blood. Ermita watched as the disinterest that had formed upon seeing the body in the bath faded upon the revelation of the final photo, his single eye being more than enough to display his total obsession.

"There she is at last."

The tone of reverence matched the care which he now used to examine the photo. A care he seemed to reserve for his favourite test subject.

"It is rather incredible," Ermita murmured as he poured himself a cup of the now cold coffee.

"That something as simple as killing that man was all we needed to do in order to draw her out."

"Have we moved to secure her?"

"Our orders from the top only extend to removing the Phantom, her remaining champion."

Ermita leaned back in his chair, his fingers mockingly tapping upon the armrest as if he was deep in thought.

"We've just been tasked with a new assignment."

He was thankful for his clothing that hid the far too sinister smile that was all too characteristic of his true self that lurked behind his calm façade.

"Dae," he addressed his companion as he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "What shall we do about Rimuto?"

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><p>With a sickening snap the remaining wooden slat was wrenched free and launched through the air, the bed head crumbling in its wake. The incoming projectile narrowly missed her before it thumped into the bathroom door she was seemingly paralysed against. With the sound of the impact still ringing in her ears, Miria fought to focus on the sight of a growling Hilda who was uncomfortably close. For she desperately needed a distraction, anything to stop her from dwelling upon the far more preferable and all too vivid after images of the rather steamy activities that she had been so sure she was engaged in on the other side of the door…<p>

Heat crept up her neck and she felt the unfamiliar burning of her cheeks. Oh no, she couldn't be that far gone. This was God Eye of all people she was considering and in great detail too a part of her brain forcibly reminded her as images of wandering hands and terribly distracting kisses announced their still lingering presence. For something that hadn't even occurred, her recent dream had been annoyingly realistic. So realistic it had left her somewhat disappointed and slightly out of breath. Her eyes widened in shock upon the realisation that the less than steady breathing that filled the room wasn't from Hilda.

Miria's blush turned a shade darker as she was now becoming acutely aware of the slight race of her heartbeat and the not entirely unpleasant rush that had yet to leave her. Which, to find a perfectly logical and decidedly more innocent explanation was probably just her survival instincts going into overdrive, she hurriedly reasoned. After all, she had just awoken to find Hilda growling in her face and it was inconceivable really that her sudden breathlessness had anything to do with a certain blonde. Even if said blonde had a voice that could make the most perverse of sentences sound strangely inviting.

That thoughtful reminder was in no way responsible for her sudden rise in temperature. No, she could blame that entirely upon her far too clear remembrance that encounters with God Eye were rarely limited to just words. Those hands of hers, always constantly exploring, and their teasing touches were more than capable of filling the lull in a conversation. Warmth spread across her reddened cheeks. The rather persistent turn her thoughts had taken pertaining to just how capable those hands could be should she allow them to wander unchecked, thankfully interrupted as Hilda's breath greeted her. Miria tried her best not to recoil as her friend followed through with a growl right in her face.

Satisfied that she had gained her full attention, Hilda shuffled closer, her restrained hands reaching forward to grip the fabric of Miria's shirt. Warily tracking the movement, Miria resisted any urge to shift her position. In her current drugged state Hilda would be the quicker of the two. The grip upon her shirt tightened and in that moment her instincts overruled her caution. Her hand reached for a knife and was just about to draw it from its sheath when Hilda all but tumbled into her lap, her chin resting comfortably upon the assassin's shoulder. Strands of brown hair tickled her nose as an utterly bewildered Miria listened to the stream of contented growls from Hilda that sounded dangerously close to her ear.

Cautiously, she reciprocated the awkward half hug as she placed a series of unsure pats to Hilda's back. The growls gently subsided. Miria inwardly sighed in relief only for the sound of a ringing phone to break the silence. In an instant, Hilda's stare was upon her, the growl that followed far more questioning in nature as the gold of her eyes showed the faintest traces of silver. Miria chose to respond to the unspoken inquiry with a barely perceptible nod towards her back pocket in the hope of reassuring Hilda that the sudden noise had meant her no harm.

Understanding dawned in Hilda's eyes and Miria winced as she dug her chin further into her shoulder. The pain was to prove the least of her problems for Hilda had begun to shift her weight against her. Miria was utterly mortified by the sudden onslaught of images that gleefully reminded her that this was a situation in which she was now alarmingly familiar with. The touch of Hilda's hands that had found their way to the back of her belt made things worse. For with a deft touch that was reminiscent of God Eye in execution, although she dryly noted, _that_ woman would have lingered a few seconds longer, Hilda extracted the still ringing phone from her back pocket.

She withdrew as quickly as she had struck, Hilda giving the phone a cursory glance before extending it out towards its owner. Taking it with a nod of thanks as she didn't quite trust herself to speak, Miria kept her eyes trained upon her friend who had resumed her crouch in front of her. Meeting her gaze, Hilda shuffled half a step backwards to give her some privacy.

Quickly glancing down at the screen, Miria frowned at the display that showed her that the call was from a private number. She unwisely answered, sounding just a tad breathless as she spoke.

"Hello."

Her blush that had subsided was sent straight back to her cheeks as the caller returned the greeting. Miria idly noted that her memory had conveniently glossed over the ever present touch of smugness that seemed to accompany that all too smooth voice.

"Why, hello darling."

Galatea paused for just a second too long confirming that she had indeed heard the slightly higher pitch of the assassin's voice rather than its usually deeper resonance.

"I wouldn't happen to be interrupting anything would I?"

"_If my highly inappropriate fantasy about you counts, then yes you kind of are, God Eye," _Miria silently reflected before she settled upon a less provocative answer.

"…No…nothing…nothing at all…"

For she would rather deal with the re-emergence of a growling Hilda inches from her face than give God Eye the satisfaction of knowing about a certain dream that had left her extremely flustered. Her gaze instead remained upon Hilda and she watched as the chain that linked the play handcuffs together broke with a simple tug.

"Oh, I just thought I should ask…" Galatea was speaking again. "You do seem rather breathless."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," Miria tried for a casual tone, failing miserably. "I've just been ah…"

The sudden touch of Hilda's hands that were now snaking across her shirt heading in the direction that God Eye most favoured sent Miria's already unsteady voice an octave higher. Phone forgotten, Miria fixed Hilda with the most disapproving look she could muster as she whispered as best she could.

"What are you doing? I'm on the phone Hilda…Stop, please could you get your hands…?"

She was interrupted by a growl which was all the response Hilda gave. Her wandering hands that had found the side pocket empty retreated but then slipped down the back of Miria's jeans to finally find the knife she was looking for. Ignoring Miria's now flustered state, Hilda stole the weapon from the back pocket and leaping onto the bed began ripping the pillow from its case. Pillow case now in hand, Hilda moved towards the wardrobe, Miria dodging the extra blankets that she tossed out of the way. The banging within the wardrobe abated as she found the iron and Miria, completely baffled, watched Hilda slip it into the pillow case before she sprinted towards the meal delivery hatch near the door.

Dropping to a crouch, Hilda kept her eyes trained upon hatch as Miria followed her gaze taking in the design that allowed the staff of the motel to deliver the meals into the room. The hatch gave access directly to the counter that Hilda crouched beside, her head inclined to the side as if she was listening for something. And then Miria heard it, the faint sound of footsteps. Slipping her phone back in her pocket, the Phantom, far too preoccupied to realise that Galatea was still on the line, removed the knife Hilda had gifted her from its sheath. Pulling down, the leg of her jeans to once more hide the sheath from sight, she swiftly made her way to Hilda.

The two crouched by the counter as they waited for the enemy to make their move. A scraping sound cut through the silence, the hatch above them beginning to open. Hilda rose to her feet and with barely a noise hoisted herself onto the counter. The pillow case swung once before it was launched through the now open hatch to collide with the closest object on the other side. The force of the blow sent the intruder staggering backwards, the primed smoke grenade dropping from his hand. Within the seconds it took to detonate, Hilda was through the hatch landing in the middle of her four opponents. The three that had taken up positions upon the far side of the door raised their guns but were unable to fire as both their comrades and target were obscured in a cloud of smoke.

Taking out the legs of her closest opponent, Hilda sensed rather than saw Miria land beside her. The flash of the blade confirmed it as she stabbed it into the gun arm of her closest opponent whose gun was aimed at Hilda. Miria then grabbed the injured arm swinging him into the two remaining bodies as Hilda flicked off the gas mask upon the downed woman and slit her throat. Three remained in front and three behind and the smoke was starting to dissipate. Grabbing the injured opponent, Hilda easily ended his struggle and swapping her knife for his gun sent a spray of bullets towards the far end of the walkway on which they fought.

There was no return fire, the smoke choosing that moment to clear and reveal the three slumped bodies just as Miria took out the remaining two behind her. The adrenaline pulsed throughout Hilda's veins, the drug having removed all sense of fear. She returned the unfathomable look Miria gave her as she took in the gun in her hand. It took all of Hilda's will to uncurl her finger from the trigger and slide it across the walkway. In the faint light from the wall lamp next to the door of the room, the silver unblinking eyes of Hilda stared back at her as Miria gripped the knife within her hand.

The first stage had passed. Hilda had won the battle against the drug using it to enhance her movements that she was now making of her own free will. And what followed was the part of the addiction Miria hated as the clarity and invincibility the drug instilled in Hilda began to fade leaving her friend desperately seeking its return.

"Miria…"

The cautious tone was replaced by a much more frantic one, the concern Hilda had for her becoming all too clear as she felt the barrel of a gun rest against her back before she was ordered.

"Don't move don't even turn, just drop your knife and kick it away."

For someone who had taken an iron to the stomach he was surprisingly talkative. Miria did as she was told, the knife kicked off the walkway to clatter onto the windshield of a parked car below.

"Now kick the gun away, Phantom."

Obeying the orders, Miria was just about to kick the weapon off the walkway when the sound of her ringtone broke the tension. The barrel of the gun was now painfully dug into her back.

"Don't even think of answering it. Just let it ring."

It was as if he had tempted fate for the sound of a completely different ringtone joined the first. The barrel left her back, the gun now aimed at Hilda for the ringing had come from her direction and in that moment the Phantom made her move. Dropping into a crouch, she took the legs out from under him and as he struggled to recover she pulled the gas mask from his face. Her grip upon his vest tightened as she slammed him backwards into the railing that lined the walkway to knock him unconscious. The still ringing phones fell silent in unison. Hilda, who had reached to answer hers met Miria's inquiring look over the pile of bodies.

Further questions were put on hold as the noise coming from the other guest rooms became audible. Quickly searching the fallen bodies as shadows began to move in the sudden light behind drawn curtains, the sound of gunshots having alarmed the motel guests, Miria found the first phone she could. The assassin accessed the call log and searched for the last received call. Her suspicions were confirmed as she recognised the number. The hit squad had been sent by Ermita. Pocketing the phone, Miria raced for the stairs. Hilda paused only to retrieve the knife before she followed.

The two of them cleared the last of the stairs. Hilda headed for the street to locate the vehicle the hit squad had arrived in while Miria veered off to head straight into the car park. The ground floor was now completely awake as the Phantom sprinted past the few people who had wandered out into the car park. Ignoring the shout, which was probably from the owner of the car, she retrieved her knife lodged between the bonnet and the windscreen before making her escape. The slumped body outside the standard black van told her that Hilda had already dealt with the driver.

Miria leapt over the last of the fallen hit squad to roll into the open back door. Hilda slammed on the accelerator and the van pulled from the kerb before speeding away from the motel. Sliding the door shut, Miria settled within the passenger seat as Hilda ran a red light before switching lanes onto the road that would take them to the outskirts of the city. The tension from the fight began to fade as the van joined the early morning flow of traffic. Hilda slowed their speed once she had ascertained the absence of tails.

Withdrawing her phone from her pocket, Miria glanced at the screen. The number of the missed call that had coincidently saved her life brought a flicker of a frown to her face. It wasn't Galatea. Not that she would be able to tell for the agent had called from a private number. Her previous relief was now clouded by a nagging doubt as she continued to stare at the mobile number trying to place just where she had seen it. Was it Ermita? Miria dismissed the thought even as she removed from her pocket the Staff's phone she had stolen. Accessing, the list of prior calls she verified the last, the number having been memorised from the moment she had answered it upon the veranda of that safe house so long ago.

And she'd be damned before she allowed Ermita to taunt her once again. Miria dialled the number. One ring, two rings and on the third she could deny it no more as Hilda's guilty gaze met hers in brief acknowledgement before returning to the road. Miria jolted from her seat as the van suddenly veered before it came to a stop at the kerb. Keeping, a single hand upon the steering wheel Hilda reached over to place the knife carefully into Miria's outstretched hand.

"Your phone." Miria sounded remarkably calm.

Hilda obeyed and handed over the ringing phone. Miria took it without another word. Really, she should have foreseen it from the start as soon as she had registered that Hilda was drugged. It couldn't have been the dose within the tracker. That had run its course over a month ago. The lit screen of Hilda's phone allowed her to verify the incoming number, the ringing falling silent as Miria declined it with a simple tap.

"Miria, I tried…I tried but he…"

Hilda was ignored as the Phantom switched the stolen phone for her own. Although aware of her pleading stare, Miria's gaze remained fixed upon her call log as she typed the number that she had been so sure belonged to Ermita. Hilda's phone rang the second she had finished dialling. She let the call continue through to voice mail. Running her hand over the USB port, the assassin extracted a tiny chip, its size small enough to have fitted snugly into the space to avoid detection and slim enough to have not interfered should the port be used. A custom made chip that the Ghosts had entrusted her with and something that would allow the call log of the phone it was placed in to be read by those who knew the number. Miria finally met Hilda's gaze.

"That number wasn't his, was it? I was never tracking Ermita."

"Miria…you…I didn't have time to tell you. He caught me when I was placing the chip and he called you from my phone to organise the exchange, but Miria we're safe. That's all that matters, please…"

All this time, Miria inwardly cursed, thumping her head back against the headrest of her seat, the only outward sign of frustration she would allow herself. Scrolling down the list of calls she found the two she was looking for, the familiar number of the hit squad leader who had attacked the Ghosts' safe house and the number of her old blackberry. The highlighted number stared back at her taunting her and upon re-reading the familiar sequence, the phone nearly tumbled from her suddenly unsteady hands. Fumbling with her phone, Miria accessed the call log and selected the number of the missed caller whose timing had saved her life. For if she disregarded the first three digits, it was just the number of her old blackberry in reverse. Miria quickly dialled.

The smooth voice that answered was unable to deter her as she ignored the greeting, Miria yelling into the phone the question she should have asked the second she had heard that infuriating woman.

"God Eye, how the hell did you get this number?"

* * *

><p>What an inconveniently placed bed was the single thought that ran through her mind. Her eyes, whose lids felt they had just closed, cracked reluctantly open to glare at the source of their discomfit. The rays of the early morning sun seemed most persistent as a shaft of sunlight found its way through the slight gap in the heavy, closed curtains. The light that fell across the bed had awoken Deneve from what had been a horrible night's sleep. She should have known by now, due to her vast experience with them that drunks made for terrible talkers their lack of inhibitions causing them to rattle on until something struck a nerve.<p>

Despite her wasted state, Hysteria Rabona was one of the few who had ever managed to land an impressive hit that even now still left her somewhat unsettled. For the tension between them must have been glaringly obvious for Hysteria to have picked up on it. Despite the harsh words between them, Helen still could have just let her explain why she didn't approve of her newest mission, for the Ghosts were targeting the one who was the sole reason why her body wasn't at the bottom of the sea providing nutrients for the ocean floor. She had been so sure that her days were numbered and yet here she was lying in bed thinking and getting all jittery over some fight with a girl whom she may have kissed once or twice, but it wasn't anything damn serious. Hell, they weren't even dating. Having dinner together four times a week didn't count and those late night gaming sessions most certainly didn't for Cynthia had been present for at least one of them. Although, Cynthia hadn't been present that night which had started out as a typical evening between them. The memories that had robbed her of a good night's sleep were trying again to force her to acknowledge just what had happened.

She remembered how the controls for the game in front of her had felt foreign in her hands. How her thoughts had been much too preoccupied with how stifling the room seemed despite Helen's unintentional hoarding of their shared blanket. And Helen had been so unaware of her discomfort and she had felt damn uncomfortable as with each shout of excitement, the space between them seemed to shrink. An especially loud shout from the idiot right in her ear told her she was too damn close. The girl still delighted in her successful attempt at crashing their cars together in an effort to run her off the race track.

The monitor had practically been obscured from sight as she madly waved her controls back and forth and the car on the screen, responding to her enthusiasm, just managed to cut the corner to place her in front. A quick press of the button gunned the accelerator as she headed towards the finish line, Helen leaning with the sharp turn her car made and bridging the now non-existent gap between them. The bottles she had consumed earlier took their toll upon her balance and she practically tumbled into her lap. The controller flew from her hands to be lost somewhere in the room.

The familiar taste of beer had greeted her as their lips met in an awkward kiss. By the time it took for her to register that the buzzing in the back of her skull had been a warning that she was well and truly soused, they were staggering towards the bedroom. Her toe stubbed upon the edge of the door as they stumbled past. The sound of giggles cut her curse short and the room spun as the two fell onto the bed. The kiss she gave her to shut her up had been surprisingly effective but her thoughts reeled once again the second she was kissed back. Hands slipped under her shirt to begin removing it and thoughts such as how and when they had managed to even stumble into the bed were forgotten as she had reached forward to tug at her jacket…

And then she had awoken to the ringing of a phone.

Helen's apologetic voice sounded strangely out of place amidst their tangled legs and the absence of their clothing. A quick glance at the clock had showed it was early morning, the scheduled drop with Galatea long gone. She remembered that she had offered no resistance as Helen had moved closer, the faint sounds of Irene's reprimand able to be heard. For the phone was now the only thing that separated them as they eyed each other resting upon their shared pillow. Helen followed the movement of her fingers that tentatively brushed across the arm she had rested against her stomach. Irene's yelling ran its course to be replaced by the hum of a disconnected line. Then the warmth was gone, Helen's arm retreating as she left the bed heading for the bathroom. Her skin now felt the sudden chill of the morning as the door snapped shut.

The bed shifted underneath her and her eyes, shut in frustration at the reoccurrence of the memory she had hoped to forget, flickered open as a familiar touch registered on her consciousness. Her pyjama shirt, hiked up from all the tossing and turning of her restless night allowed an arm, wrapping her in its embrace to caress her suddenly heated skin. The unexpected pressing of a body against her back that followed, coupled with the sleepy mumbling in her ear sent her scrambling from the bed. Deneve quickly untangled herself from the sheet that she had taken with her in her fall from the bed and stumbled to her feet.

The sight of a very naked and barely awake Hysteria Rabona who, upon searching the now vacated double bed seemed content to settle for the pillow she now held in her arms, sent Deneve running for the exit. The door to the adjacent room across the hall was thrown violently open before the shout of a name echoed around the bedroom, Deneve oblivious to the empty bed.

"Galatea!"

* * *

><p>A month of exemplary good behaviour, Galatea reflected was perhaps being a little too ambitious for the sound of the uncharacteristically breathless greeting from Miria was playing havoc with the small amount of self restraint she had managed to retain. For out of all the possibilities that could have occurred, which she spent a second debating before dialling her number, the chances of interrupting Miria's rather busy love life had been exceedingly low. After all with the change of location she just assumed it had meant a well earned rest from the sudden spree of bondage room visits.<p>

Yet, judging from the current state of her voice, Miria was showing herself to have the potential for a very impressive stamina and one that might just rival hers. That all too tempting thought caused her to stub her now fourth cigarette just a little too hurriedly upon the ashtray. But forever the consummate professional, she betrayed none of the excitement at the opportunity that had presented itself to her.

"Why hello darling."

Best to start off with something tame to give her a chance to recover. She paused as she checked the map on her iphone that lay upon the coffee table. Using Dietrich's trusty program she imputed the first number that Miria's old blackberry had been tracking. It looked as if it was still in use as the blinking dot showed the assassin's newest location. So, Miria was beginning to at last take pity on her credit card if her choice of a cheap motel was anything to go by.

"I wouldn't happen to be interrupting anything, would I?"

A pause which was promising, coupled with a response that was so painfully unconvincing it gave her the slightest sense of satisfaction for her most impeccable timing.

"…No…nothing…nothing at all…"

Judging from the faint growl that followed, Hilda didn't seem to agree, Galatea noted. The screen of her iphone split between two maps and the call log she was surprised to discover could still be accessed. Her fingers that had taken to scrolling up and down the list stopped upon the number she had surmised was for Miria's phone. Her all night research had made her certain of that.

The location of this phone corresponded with the number of the phone she had been tracking. Prior movements of the number corresponded with Miria's previous locations which narrowed down the identity of her current company to just one individual. The frown upon Galatea's brow deepened. Unless, Miria was proving to be more like her than she previously thought.

"Oh, I just thought I should ask…" Galatea trailed off not wanting to give away just how appealing she found that sudden thought.

Still, she realised she could still follow her previously honourable intentions that should Miria answer she would gently ease into the conversation and allow her time to calm down, for she had been damned sure that she would be greeted with a less than pleased Phantom. She would just have to resist the temptation of asking the far more interesting questions.

"You do seem rather breathless."

While very much a statement, she had in speaking, ruined any chances of exchanging further pleasantries. Galatea silently berated herself. But to be fair, the consolation for the sting to her pride that came from having been spectacularly played had just been far too tempting.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about. I've just been ah…"

The noise that had just been uttered was unmistakable and so unlike Miria it made Galatea shift forward in anticipation. The agent was now perched upon the edge of the couch. Her fingers quickly found the volume for the phone as her grip unintentionally tightened with each word Miria whispered.

"What are you doing? I'm on the phone Hilda…Stop, please could you get your hands…?"

Well, she had sought confirmation and judging by Miria's flustered voice and the return of the growling it was clear that her interruption hadn't swayed them in the slightest. It was just a shame really that Miria had neglected to put her phone on speaker for Galatea very much wanted to verify the faint background noise. Her imagination sparked by the remembrance of the aftermath of their first bondage room encounter was further fuelled as a particularly loud thump lent credibility to her suspicions. Galatea reached for the bottle of bourbon left upon the coffee table as the noise continued unabated.

Although, the bourbon might have to wait as the banging had come to an abrupt end, Miria's lack of participation in their conversation gladly excused as it was clear from the now faint rustle of clothing that her attention was required elsewhere. Galatea's sneaking suspicion was about to be strengthened as the agent waited with baited breath for the highly anticipated second round, only to be greeted with the sound of steady breathing. It was a sound furthest away from the almost breathless way Miria had responded a moment before. Galatea was unable to stop her sigh of frustration. This was no time for dramatic pauses.

Especially, in light of her most welcome discovery that Miria was proving to be a rather capable tease or just someone who lost interest once the foreplay was over. Still, for such a promising start a deflated finale was just too cruel. Not that she had been all that interested in the outcome or anything like that. Miria was going to have to try just a little harder than this if she wanted her attention. For those sounds had been far too tame to have piqued her latent voyeuristic tendencies. Those slightly suggestive sounds were not at all responsible for a moment of weakness that might have included an indulgence in some wishful thinking of how things could have gone between them had the whole world not conspired to interrupt her at every opportunity.

No, the closest she and Miria had ever gotten to a bed had been in that honeymoon suite. Coincidently, the only time the assassin had actually managed to divest her of her clothing. The lithe way Miria's hands had travelled down the length of her shirt to leave no button untouched had sent a sensation through her that had quite contradicted the slow and tentative kiss they had been thoroughly engaged in. And the sensation that those hands could have further given her with the shirt no longer a hindrance Galatea would frustratingly never experience nor would Miria be given the satisfaction of knowing that a mere phone call between them had reinforced the feeling that she was still annoyingly attracted to her.

And as if to spite her, a much more muted banging less steady in rhythm drew her from her unsettling thoughts. Galatea resisted the urge to sharply inhale. Really, Miria should know better than to think that this kind of approach could ever work for it was highly unfair that her imagination should be doing all the work. This was probably all just for a reaction, Galatea reasoned and if that was all she was after then she had better just cut her losses now as she would be getting no such thing. Not that Miria was under any obligation to stop whatever it was that she was doing for never had Galatea felt so damn…disappointed.

The sound of gunshots that blasted over the speakers ruined the moment. While Galatea had long ago admitted that Miria was more adventurous than she had previously given her credit for, the noise made it quite clear that while a phone call did little to deter their amorous intentions a few gunshots just might. Regretting her decision to turn up the volume on the phone, she winced as she held it some distance away to give her hearing a chance to recover. Gingerly, placing the phone once more to her ear, the agent was just in time to hear an unexpected voice order.

"Don't move don't even turn, just drop your knife and kick it away."

The mention of a knife was a dead giveaway, Galatea disapprovingly clicking her tongue at Miria's predicament. The agent hung up placing the safe house phone back upon the cradle before reaching for her iphone. She knew that a few seconds of distraction were all, the Phantom needed. Rapidly redialling Miria's number, Galatea allowed her iphone to ring as she picked up the landline to call Hilda. Two distractions were better than one and she could do with an explanation from the assassin. Had she made so little impression on Miria to be denied a proper goodbye?

"Galatea!"

Yes, it probably would have gone exactly like that, Miria reprimanding her complete with a chagrined expression that would show just how shocked she was at the audacity of her attempt to sneak in a final kiss. Although, hadn't Miria fallen into the frustrating habit of addressing her only by her call sign? Galatea's brow furrowed in thought. Despite her hazy memory she was sure that those kisses in the kitchen were enough to put them on a first name basis. And speaking of unfinished business, her iphone was now ringing. Galatea found herself unable to stop either her smile that formed nor her smug tone as she answered Miria's call.

"Call it instinct but I knew that you would recognise your old number, even in reverse" Galatea greeted her. "And while we're on the subject I've always suspected that your restraint was as lacking as mine but hearing it confirmed was a welcome experience, Miria."

"Galatea, tell me you didn't play strip poker with her!"

Wait…Strip poker? Miria shouldn't know about that. The nagging at the back of her mind that the Miria of her thoughts had sounded so suspiciously like Deneve finally made itself known. The scream from the top of the stairs informed her, the forger was now awake and judging from the sudden stomping, headed in her direction.

"God Eye, how the hell did you get this number?"

Miria's voice thundered in her ear and confirmed her earlier observation. Although, if she thought about it she had done Miria a great injustice for her thoughts had completely failed to capture the utter fury contained within her question. But then an utterly furious Phantom was the one she was most apt at dealing with, Galatea reminded herself as she leisurely slipped on her still damp shirt.

"I got it through sheer persistence, darling and a little help from a very nice service provider."

"Another one of your jobs was she?" Miria snapped back. "Did she also find out that you were shadowing her too?"

"Miria, to come as highly recommended as I am," Galatea reproached her, mildly offended, "I try not to expose myself too much."

"Oh, I was under the impression that you went to great lengths to show as much of yourself as possible."

"Only when catering to certain preferences, yours included."

Really, while a part of her rejoiced in talking to Miria, she still could have done without the dripping sarcasm. The heavy footfalls behind her were also growing noticeably louder, a sign that Deneve was taking the stairs two at time. The forger further announced her presence, the desperation behind her question now heard.

"Why the hell is Hysteria Rabona naked in my room?"

"Hysteria Rabona's naked?"

The slow enunciation of each word ruined the causal tone Miria had been trying to adopt and informed the agent that she was none too pleased upon hearing Deneve's question. Her following words hammered the point home.

"You seem to be having quite the great success on your current mission, God Eye."

"Having finally contacted you, I quite agree."

Galatea was all too happy to claim ignorance as she pocketed her car keys before moving to the small foyer by the front door of the penthouse to ready herself for the oncoming Deneve. She quickly doubled back to steal the packet of Lucky Strikes she had left upon the table.

"I thought you were _impersonating_ Rabona…" Miria mused aloud all too content to follow Galatea's example and outright ignore her.

"Did that always include sleeping with her?"

Her dry tone was unmistakable, Miria's displeasure positively palpable. Had she always had so little faith in her? Then again perhaps she had made an impression after all if Miria's extreme tetchiness was any indication. Galatea resisted the urge to respond with an accusation of her own. For it was awfully convenient on Miria's part to have forgotten that the both of them had spared a look at the alternative options. The assassin, in particular had declared quite strongly that her intentions lay with Hilda.

"Indulging in a game of strip poker together isn't the same as sleeping with her."

"I bet that indulgence was most beneficial to your research."

"It did help to offer me an improved perspective on things," Galatea admitted as she slipped out the front door of the penthouse just as Deneve cleared the stairs.

Positioning herself clear of the door, Galatea hardly blinked as it banged wide open, Deneve standing within the doorway. Taking in the deserted corridor she turned her attention to Galatea who had been leaning casually against the wall and was now inches from her. The close proximity didn't faze her. Deneve was about to speak only to be stopped as a single, slender finger was placed to her lips. The action was followed with a chided shush and a nod in the direction of the foyer behind them. Ignoring her Deneve tried to speak but the slow brush of the finger along her lips was far more effective in silencing her. Galatea was about to further experiment with the efficiency only to hear Miria's tetchy reply.

"Her lack of clothing, I imagine would have helped you with that."

"Oh, not necessarily," Galatea murmured as her eyes lingered upon the brief glimpse of a well toned stomach that Deneve's hiked up pyjama shirt offered.

Her appraisal was not appreciated in the slightest, the appreciation solely Galatea's as her gaze drifted lower to pause upon those terrible striped shorts. Dismissing the interesting choice in favour of a closer inspection of those legs she was delightfully unfamiliar with, Galatea was met with a well timed fist that whacked down upon her fingers. Deneve's irritation was both clear in her expression and voice as she sought to solve the far more pressing inquiry that Galatea had yet to answer.

"What is Rabona doing in my bed?"

In her defence, Galatea reasoned, she had quickly learnt that carrying Hysteria Rabona up two flights of stairs had proved the girl was heavier than she looked and she had gladly dumped her in the closest bed not bothering to confirm if it was already occupied. Besides, it had looked big enough for two.

"What…Rabona in your bed?" Miria sounded utterly confused at what she had just overheard.

"Could you hold for a second darling?"

Galatea didn't wait for Miria's response as she gave Deneve a suggestive look.

"What you and Rabona do in bed should remain between yourselves. Although, if I had to hazard a guess Apple is going to be none too pleased…"

She trailed off for one last look at that well toned stomach, Galatea scolding herself for having dismissed Deneve a year ago. Pity, the girl had poor tastes but then love or lust whatever one's preference made fools of the best of them. God Eye quickly stepped back before the door was forcibly slammed in her face. Obstacle removed, the agent headed for the lift that would take her to the underground car park. Galatea was about to reassure Miria that she still retained her full attention but the Phantom, seemingly torn between resignation and a weary amazement spoke first.

"I should have known that you wouldn't be satisfied with just one," Miria muttered. "Who the hell is Apple?"

Her displeasure was back and really it was kind of cute that she was so prone to jealously, Galatea thought as the lift arrived at her floor. It was just a shame she wasn't feeling charitable enough to indulge her.

"I'd rather talk about you and Hilda."

"Me and Hilda?" The displeasure had quickly given way to confusion.

"You and Hilda," Galatea repeated. "And a bondage room isn't all that complicated to work out. Darling, you must have known I'd eventually get around to asking, seeing as I'm paying for the expenses."

"You don't seem all that bothered judging from the extra company."

Miria sounded absolutely miffed. Galatea pressed her advantage as the lift doors closed upon her selecting the button for the basement.

"No, the thing that bothers me the most is that I didn't catch on sooner considering you were all over me in that kitchen. I should have known you were after more than just my phone."

"Are you seriously accusing me of trying to seduce you?" Miria asked unable to hide her disbelief at the turn the conversation had taken.

"I'm accusing you of succeeding, actually. You were so very convincing."

"I could say the same about you, God Eye!" Miria's voice had risen again. "You were spying on me from the start."

And there it was at last and while every bit of the detour had been enjoyable it was a relief that Miria had brought up the subject and with the added bonus of an admission that she had some effect on the assassin. Galatea stepped from the lift and into the car park.

"You knew who I was before you even poured me that first drink," she countered. "What was the name you were going by, Zelda was it?"

"If I had known that alcohol got you extra touchy I wouldn't have bothered taking your order!"

While Miria had shown herself to have quite the set of lungs with all the yelling she had been doing, this shout seemed more out of embarrassment than anger. Galatea picked up on the change even as her mind sought to recall the moment when surpassing her alcohol limit she would give way to her penchant for extra friendly behaviour.

"Miria, you were trying to get me soused."

"No," Miria answered a bit too quickly for it to be true. Galatea helpfully supplied a second chance for her to reply, the amusement in her tone clear as she searched for the keys to the hire car.

"And just how long have you been spying on me, Miria?"

"Look." The irritation was slowly creeping back. "Your boss told me you…I was just using the information from my debrief."

"I'd love to hear what exactly she said about me."

It would be good to confirm the sneaking suspicion she had maintained towards Irene's habit of taking a little too many liberties when crafting the urban legends she liked to surround her agents with in order to scare off the competition.

"I was debriefed just before I took the job," Miria had started to mutter again. "I just got given a list of weaknesses and well it just said _women_…"

Sometimes, Irene knew her a little too well, Galatea reflected. Still, for Irene to say that her intimate relations ended in murder was woefully inaccurate.

"I just thought…" Miria continued in a mumble as Galatea strained to make out the words.

"If I got you drunk first I wouldn't have to actually go through with seducing you or anything like that."

Out of all the possibilities, Galatea inwardly seethed as she pulled open her car door just a little too forcefully and slumped down into the driver's seat. Miria was doing a poor job of reassuring her as her previous inclination that the assassin had played her from the start was looking downright enticing now. _Really did…_

"Did the idea of seducing me seem so completely horrid?"

"Well, not after I got to know you."

For once she was thankful for the high volume upon her phone as Miria's admission had been barely a whisper. Galatea was temporarily at a loss for words as she shifted uncomfortably within her seat.

"I'm touched you find me so attractive."

Smugness was second nature to her now and there was no harm in taking comfort in the truth as a look at her reflection in the rear view mirror proved. After all, this exchanging of truths with Miria was being surprisingly helpful.

"So what was your plan? Were you going to get every attractive person in Bar Mucha drunk and narrow it down from there?"

Teasing was also second nature to her and maybe just maybe she wanted confirmation that Miria shared her assessment of her looks. Irene had certainly taken a liking to them when recruiting her and a string of others had likewise agreed enough to take her up on her invitation of an introduction between the sheets.

"Just because I find you borderline attractive, doesn't mean a thing, God Eye," Miria told her as a touch of amusement entered her voice as she spoke again.

"No, I was told your name and that you'd be all too happy to confirm it if I caught your eye."

Valid point, Galatea conceded and she was still mystified as to just why she hadn't supplied a false name. It wasn't like she had a shortage to choose from. Had it been her preference for red hair? Or was she just shaken by what had transpired in that hotel room? Or maybe she'd just been attracted to her from the start, the bartending uniform the final nudge she needed. Pity, things had gotten so complicated.

"One thing doesn't add up, Miria," Galatea paused.

Surely the answer to this would kill any further interest and most importantly her thoughts concerning things she really shouldn't be thinking about.

"If you were so averse to seducing me then how did you end up in my lap with your hands up my dress?"

"…Because my plan didn't include letting you kiss me."

Well…Damn, sometimes Miria played downright dirty because with a little bending of the truth she had ensnared her curiosity completely.

"Was kissing me included in any other plans?"

"That…what happened in the kitchen," Miria sighed. "How could I have planned that?"

"The alcohol in my coffee was clearly premeditated," Galatea chided her. "Was that because you knew how extra touchy I can be when I've reached my limit?"

"I was giving you an excuse."

"I hardly need an excuse to kiss you, Miria."

"If you were soused," Miria explained patiently. "Then how were you meant to stop me from leaving?"

"We planned that I would stay behind."

Slightly frustrated, Galatea reminded her that she was being especially cagey when questioned about anything that had occurred in that kitchen.

"And getting you drunk was the only excuse I could think of to get…Teresa to stay with you."

The slight hesitation upon Teresa's name went unnoticed, Galatea highly offended that the Phantom thought so little of her fighting prowess.

"I could have taken your little hit squad."

"God Eye," Miria placated her, the following words soothing the sting. "I needed her to guarantee that you'd be safe."

"So you could start your new life with Hilda free of regrets?"

"I was always going to leave, God Eye," Miria sounded resigned. "As soon as I had Hilda I was going. I just took your phone to say goodbye."

Upon reflection, Galatea thought, she preferred the idea that her temporary stupidity in her choice of wallpaper had led to Miria's departure. At least she'd gotten some form of compensation out of it.

"If you wanted me to forget about you then those six kisses were a poor choice."

"I think it was more than that."

"We could always start a new count when we met again."

"God Eye, you know it's more complicated than that." Miria's playfulness had vanished, the assassin sounding utterly weary. "I can't trust you."

"Is this because of the folder I have on you?"

Truth had gotten her somewhere and Galatea had no qualms in using it but perhaps it was time to switch tactics. Lying for information was one of the skills she was most apt at using not to mention one that made her job all the more easier. For there were just a couple of things she had to have the assassin confirm.

"So you have been spying on me!" The weariness was gone, Miria now clearly incensed. "What do you mean by a _folder_?"

"Oh, you didn't find it because I was so sure that was why you left…"

Galatea purposely trailed off as she idly made a mental note to one day inform Miria that she was so easy to bait. So, that photo had been a factor in the Phantom's decision to leave. A poor excuse and one that showed a severe lack of trust. Was she that untrustworthy?

"Just how many photos do you have of me, God Eye?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might just happen to have liked your photo?"

Galatea's softly spoken yet exasperated admission gave Miria reason to pause, the assassin noticeably fumbling with her words.

"Oh…that's…that's…you liked it? It's not…It's not even a good photo."

"I understand your reservations," Galatea reassured her. "But it's easy to fix, just depends…"

This pause wasn't of a strategic nature at all, the rare emergence of her conscience throwing the agent off. Sometimes, they knew each other too well, but then how could she pass up this perfect opportunity to answer a very urgent question. Galatea took a deep breath not wanting her excitement to spoil the moment, the agent's tone nonchalant as she continued.

"It just depends really on what you happen to be wearing…What are you wearing by the way?"

"What?"

The flat tone of voice told her, she should have listened to her conscience as the silence on the other end of the phone stretched on. Galatea nearly missed the quietly spoken answer, guilt having entered Miria's voice.

"A shirt?"

"Just a shirt?"

"Umm…yeah," Miria confirmed her guilt now very noticeable. "…Your shirt."

"You're wearing my shirt?"

"…And some jeans…"

Oh, she had been vaguely aware that her closet might have been missing several items and Galatea wasn't about to complain about their current location. It also solved the quite puzzling mystery of those laundry visits that had been charged to her credit card. Gulping, as her brain quickly formulated several ideas as to how best to approach this information, she chose the first that came to mind. After all, Irene had forced her to delete that photo. She would just have to make extra sure that the boss didn't find its replacement. The agent was unable to stop her excitement as she blurted out.

"So tell me, Miria, do you know how to send a photo from your phone?"

The beeping of a cut connection told her that Miria's answer was a firm no.


End file.
